A Second Chance
by TheBatKid
Summary: Second chances are hard to come by, and Loki will do everything he can to correct his mistakes. But as Hel starts to remember glimpses of the past, perhaps there's more to the journey than he realised. (Sequel to 'Aether Queen.')
1. Fatherhood

**A Second Chance**

Many people didn't get second chances. It was just the way things worked. Either time moved too quickly or they were too slow; whatever opportunities they had passed them by, were lost to circumstance, and soon became nothing but a regretful memory.

But for every hundred stories like this, there was one that stood out from the rest. One person would find a second chance and take it with both hands. And sometimes, that second chance became the life they wanted to lead, with people they now appreciated thanks to seeing the world without them.

"Helly?"

A soft voice called into the girl's bedroom, disturbing the quiet air as light flooded in from the doorway and chased away the shadows. Loki stood in the frame, his eyes squinting, hand held out in front of him with a precarious grip on a candleholder. It was made out of polished brass; nothing too elaborate, as he'd borrowed it from a handmaid to make a quick check on his daughter.

In the darkness, he could just make out her bed. A King-sized with a soft blue canopy and baby blue bedding, all of it stitched with care and made to suit Hel's tastes. It had been a laborious task to undertake, one that cost Loki enough to feed a small village, but for his daughter he would do anything; anything to make her second childhood better than the first.

"Helly?" he pushed the door open some more, wincing as it creaked and allowed the light to flood into her room, "Are you awake, my girl?"

The floor was clear of all toys and books, something that Loki took pride in. What with his imprisonment on Asgard he had very little to do, and sometimes it calmed him to stride into Hel's bedroom and clear away her things, putting the books back on the wall shelves and organising the toys on whatever he felt like that day, whether it was on top of the chest of drawers or inside the blue toy box hidden in the corner. He could keep his mind focused and spend some time with his little girl, who would sit on her bed watching him without saying a word, not until he had turned round and given her a smile.

He was glad he had taken the time to clear her room up that day, as it was difficult to see in the candle's dim light and he was trying hard to be quiet. If Hel was asleep, he wouldn't wake her up. He would just take a seat beside her bed until morning came, so he would be the first one she saw when she crossed back into reality.

Outside, a soft trill of some nocturnal bird echoed around the courtyard. It fluttered its wings in the tree beyond Hel's balcony, causing the branches to rustle and Hel's eyes to creak open – a light sleeper when it came to movement, but not to people's voices.

Her head rose up as a black shadow. Loki saw it and placed the candle on her bedside table, shushing her before he moved to her arched windows and pulled the blue curtains open.

"Nothing, my girl – see? A clear night." He reassured her, even though he sensed she had calmed at his presence. It pained him to think she still clung to the memories of the Forest. Whenever they walked under the park trees or he took her out for lessons in the clearing there, Loki saw her eyes grow wide and look about her, as if searching for some hidden creature she thought would take her away.

"Daddy."

He turned to see her arms stretched towards him. With a smile he tied the curtains back so the moonlight flooded in, careful to make sure no other birds lurked in the luscious tree before he walked back over and plucked her from the bed. She felt cold. She was always so cold, no matter what he did.

"Did you enjoy your pottery class today?" he asked, stroking her long black hair as she nuzzled into his shoulder.

Hel shook her head.

"Why not?"

"Boring."

"Weren't your friends with you?"

"Boring."

He smiled. It had been a long time since Giantland, but still Hel preferred the company of those much taller than her to children her own height – some of which were much younger, but he digressed. His daughter thrived when in the presence of adults. Her magic and quiet thought made for wonderful conversation starters, and when people were willing to look past his misdeeds Loki found they were almost charming to spend time with.

"Perhaps we will take some time between now and your next class to decide whether you should go again," he said as he started a steady bounce, stroking her back in time to the rhythm, "Did you at least behave?"

When the girl stilled, another smile spread across Loki's face, mostly because he knew Hel couldn't keep herself in check when bored. The girl would grow out of it – he had seen her as a child, and knew that the future would give her control and a higher boredom threshold – but for now she entertained herself, and that was a dangerous thing with magic.

"You know I love you, Helly," he sighed as he placed her back down on the bed, face going serious while he began to tuck her in; "But you must try to keep the magic in check, even if you are bored. I know how difficult it is, my girl. I was young once too."

She gave him a disbelieving look for a moment, as if she didn't her father had ever been young; he had simply come into existence at the same time she had, not needing to be anything more in life than her father and Asgard's most dangerous prisoner.

With a gentle peck to her head, Loki tucked the covers up around her neck and sat on the seat beside her. The cushions slotted around him in a familiar way, enchanted after so many nights of making him comfortable, and with ease the God's finger streamed out green to enhance the candlelight.

"Well, since you're awake, I suppose we should read you a story, shouldn't we?"


	2. My Little Ice Swan

A sombre air settled over Asgard as the anniversary of Frigga's death reared its head. Statues had been erected in the park where she had once tended the flowers, little habits taken up that the queen had popularised; it was their way of remembering her, and their way of coming to terms with her loss.

Hel could only recall a little about her grandmother. She remembered long golden hair wrapped up in strange styles, china teacups, the constant smell of perfume that followed her wherever she went – all of this gave the girl a faint picture of the woman who had doted on her since birth.

As the sun dawned over the horizon, Hel noticed a change in Loki's behaviour. Grief, perhaps. She couldn't remember a time when she was grieving, but for some reason she knew what it felt like; how much it hurt to know things would never be the same again, that they couldn't reverse time and change everything that had been done. Words were said that could never be taken back. Things done that now no remorse could be expressed for. Frigga had died too soon, too tragically, and Loki had nothing left of her except memories and regret.

"Daddy?"

The God looked down from his book. His daughter stood there, her eyes inquisitive and soft, and in an instant he knew what she was going to say.

"Why are you so sad?"

With a sigh he placed the book on the dungeon's table, picking the girl up to sit on his lap. As part of his living on Asgard, Loki had been forced to spend much of his time in a cell, and because he had gained Odin's favour some months back he was allowed to have Hel with him on short visits. The setup around them was simple; a metal table with a single glass vase, a single white sheeted bed on a sturdy frame, and to complete it was one picture hanging on the only non-glass wall; a portrait of Giantland before the war.

"Oh, I don't know," he said, putting his chin on her head as he cradled her against his chest, "I miss Mother."

Hel inhaled a deep breath; "Did you love her a lot?"

"Well…yes, I suppose I did. She supported me when no one else would. She tried to show me the error of my ways."

"Can you see them now?"

"She wasn't always right, Helly."

The girl fell silent for a moment, sensing by her father's sad tone that there was more to the story than she realised. Somewhere in her brain, she wondered where she had been during it – she felt as though she had fallen asleep with a reputable father and a comfortable life in Giantland, and when she woke up she was in Asgard with Loki imprisoned and her mother nowhere to be seen. It confused her so much that she decided not to dwell on the details. All Hel registered was the fact her father was there and she wasn't alone.

"What happened?"

Loki stiffened.

"Bad things," he replied, and the vagueness of his answer didn't escape her notice, "I lost her before I'd time to apologise. She may not have always been right, my girl, but she was always the woman who loved me…despite all that I was."

"What were you?"

The God allowed Hel to rise from her place, bringing her big eyes up until they were staring right at him. Those dark green depths always made him think of an untameable ocean, filled with secrets and treasures he could scarcely imagine, and yet there was an understanding in them that went deeper than she would let him go.

"You mean 'what am I?' Just because Frigga's gone does not mean the past has died with her."

"What are you?" Loki looked away. "Daddy?"

"I am what Odin made me to be. He loved Thor more and threw me in his shadow. I was cast aside, made to feel inferior to that brute and yet, it was I who Odin came to for sense – I who he trusted with diplomacy. When I discovered…that I was…that he had…"

Hel felt her father's skin grow cold. With a quick glance at his hand, she saw he was gripping his chair with every ounce of strength he had, turning his knuckles white as his eyes went distant. What horrors had he seen? Curiosity sparked in her eyes as Loki thought back to a time she had no part in.

"You and I, Helly; we are descendants of a world I have no love for. We are the creatures of cold. Jotunheim is where I hail from, my girl, and now I've given you my disease."

The sadness in his voice made Hel wonder just why Jotunheim was such a bad place. In the back of her mind she recalled huge icebergs and a Giant King – someone who looked like Surtur, but with blue skin instead of red – and a mountain of ice craned up to a black swathed sky, like a sword scraping the belly of a beast. Why did Loki hate that place so?

"Disease?"

"Our heritage is not a noble one, my girl. I love you very much, but even I can't take back what I've given you, and through birth you have become everything Asgard despises and stands against."

"But…Asgard is our home."

"No, that it is not. Mark my words, Helly; you will hate Odin one day just as I do, and if you can remember anything of Frigga you will wonder how she found herself his wife." The God shook his shoulders as if ridding himself of bad emotions, and then managed a smile at his little girl. No matter what heritage they had, Hel was the turning point in it. She would be the first of many Queens. He was sure of it.

So, pulling her closer to him to rock to a steady beat, Loki began to hum a lullaby Frigga used to sing to him. After a while, the words began to make a quiet appearance.

"_And though the night is long and dark, you'll find there's still love in my old worn heart. I'll sit here with you no matter the hour; I'll work through your fears my precious flower – for you are the sun, the morning, the dawn, and you will be mine, my soft little swan."_


	3. Hel's Pet

Despite his punishment, Loki lived as close to a normal life as he could. Allowed out in the afternoons, he would wander the park with his daughter or sit alone in the library, reading through his favourite books as the world around him melted away, and sometimes he would join Thor for dinner.

But for every peaceful day in Asgard, Helheim was growing sombre. Without their Queen the demons had lost their purpose; they wandered in and out of the castle's rooms with no real aim, tending to Garm as the dog whimpered for his mistress and sat loyally by her throne, as if waiting for her return. Fire crackled in the fire pit because it had always done so, the portraits were dusted because they had always been, and the demons never left because they had nowhere else to go.

Garm felt her absence more than anyone else. The lumbering beast hadn't the intelligence to betray someone and, because of this, he had become Hel's most loyal subject, defending her with teeth and claws even when she was no longer with him. His cries rang out in the quiet air as high pitched whistles. Sometimes he grew silent, like he was wondering what to do next, before routine took him and he was whimpering for her again.

In Hel's mind, she caught glimpses of memories she wasn't sure were hers. A flash of teeth, claws, the smell of warm fur – they confused her until they were all she could think about, and over dinner she tried to piece the images together like a sort of puzzle. Her father watched her face as it went into pure concentration, only half-listening to Thor and his tale of the most recent hunts.

"Helly?" he said, which made his brother silence and looked at the girl. She didn't turn to them. Instead, she picked at her plate with its range of different meats, dipping her head until it looked to Loki that her face had disappeared in the candle flame. He had to raise his head to see her again.

"Helly? What's wrong?"

Still she did nothing. It seemed to them that Hel had vanished into a world only she could occupy, where her thoughts could run free like wild horses and the fields were peopled with flowers. The huge dining room around them fell silent as the two men watched, almost mesmerised by her, and fearful for what she may have been thinking.

"Should I call a healer?" Thor asked. He had no idea how to deal with his niece's odd moods. Once upon a time he would have put it down to blind hatred, but since her resurrection it seemed Hel remembered nothing of the past. All she could recall was the attack on Giantland. Even then, the details were sketchy, as though they had happened in a dream.

"No. There's no need for that." Loki abandoned his food to slide over to his daughter. "My girl? Sweetheart? Can you hear me?" When she didn't respond, he wrapped his arm around her waist. "Helly?"

Those big green eyes snapped out of their trance to look at him, as though seeing him for the first time. Hel dropped the fork she was holding the way she would drop molten slag. Everything crashed back into her consciousness – the portraits of various realms, the one bookcase shoved against the wall, the long dining room table, the floating chandeliers and, to top it off, a customary maid, who for a long time had been preoccupying herself with dusting.

"Are you alright, princess?"

She shook her head; "Memories."

That made both Thor and Loki freeze. Memories were a dangerous thing when it came to Hel, depending on what she chose to remember.

"What about them?"

"Can't…something there. I remember…teeth? Fur?" her brow furrowed as she tried to chase the fleeting thought, "An animal? Something. I can't…"

Thor searched his own mind for what she could be referring to. Often, Odin had sent spies to Helheim, and often they had had reports of the girl's iron fisted rule and the small ring of people she trusted. They had spoken of something that protected her; barking was the main description, as no one dared get too close to the castle in fear of her wrath.

"Is it a dog, my girl?" Loki smiled down at her as though he already knew the answer. Hel relaxed to finally put a name to the beast.

"Yes. A dog. I remember a dog. Who is it?"

The arm around her waist tightened just a bit; "You had a dog, once. Fearsome thing it was – all teeth and claws, hardly a domestic pet. Still, you loved it all the same."

"Where is it?"

"Do…do you remember Niflheim, Helly?"

"No. Yes. I…the name?"

"Familiar, is it? I would have thought so. You're entitled to rule there once you've become old enough."

"What does that have to do with this beast?" her eyes narrowed for a moment; "Is there something you haven't told me?"

That stare brought back all the forgotten melancholy Loki had for his girl, for what she went through. For a moment he could believe nothing had changed and that they were still bitter enemies, with him hoping for a miracle that never seemed to come, and with her praying for his death that never wanted to happen.

But he pushed all those feelings aside – that was the past, this was the future; "Much happened during the war. It would be pointless to tell it all now, but the facts are this; you have a realm waiting for you, and in that realm you have a dog."

Silence descended over the room again. The maid, having sensed the awkwardness of the conversation, scampered off with an unspoken excuse of hearing someone call her name, and Thor felt useless as he took a sip of his mead flagon. Hel's eyes widened once more as if processing the news. In those green depths swam shock.

"I…" she began, but her voice trailed off. So young was the toddler that she could hardly believe she had coherent thought, let alone an entire realm to her name. What had happened in that time she was asleep? Was she doomed to have that part of history shrouded by shadows? What terrors lurked there to make her father so secretive?

"I want to see the dog."

Loki edged away, resting his arms on the table as he stared at the candle flame; "Do you, my girl?"

"Yes. He's my pet, is he not? Why then should I leave him in my realm? I could bring him here; care for him on Asgard. Pets are lifelong companions, Daddy." She smiled at him. "I must take responsibility for my dog."

"Very well. I will take you to Garm." He sighed. "But…there are creatures in your realm, Hel. I fear they will scare you once you see them. Promise you'll stay close to me, no matter what happens?"

The girl's small head rested on his arm, "I will, Daddy."


	4. Hellish Memories

Loki kept Hel encased by his arms as the horse galloped along the Bifrost Bridge. To her the whole world was jumping up and down, the steady thud of hooves the only sound she could hear, and when the golden nozzle came into sight she thought her heart shuddered with excitement.

"Heimdall!" she cried out, pleased to see the amber-eyed man as the horse trotted to a standstill. He looked at her, perceiving her, before glancing away to hide the trickle of emotion that threatened to reveal itself. It had only been a few short months since Hel's resurrection. Still he saw that sweet little face grinning over parapets, the mad glint in her amethyst eyes which now were a dark green, and no matter how much he reminded himself that time had passed Heimdall couldn't help seeing the blood-thirsty Queen.

The Queen who was now as innocent as she'd been before the war.

"Heimdall."

The gatekeeper's eyes snapped up to meet Loki's, green boring into amber as they glowered at him; "The Allfather has given us passage to Helheim. We'll be returning with a dog."

Two small hands tugged at Heimdall's armour, which strained the leather straps a small amount and caused him to look down. Hel was gazing up at him, eyes filled with awe, as though imagining the weight of his duties and the stretch of his sightseeing powers.

"I have a pet, Heimdall," she babbled, "I have an entire realm – can you believe it? Can you see it? What does it look like? Are there many people there? No, wait, it's the Realm of the Dead, is it not? Perhaps then nobody walks it. Do the souls enjoy it there?"

All of the questions came out in a disjointed mess. It seemed that Hel didn't really want an answer; it was enough for her to talk about it, to imagine what it looked like and how the souls lived, and Loki knew whatever fantasy she was building in her head would be crushed when they went there.

Heimdall looked at him as though seeking answers. When he realised there were none, the gatekeeper nodded.

"I suppose you have proof of this?"

"Here," he held out a small white envelope imprinted with the Royal Seal, "his own handwriting, if you weren't already sure."

The two men stared at each other in what could only be described as an unspoken face off. Hel was oblivious to it all; she was so excited that her mind was wandering everywhere, to the intricate patterns on the wall and the visible stars beyond them, which whispered with ancient secrets she longed to discover. As her father entered his silent battle, the girl found herself clambering over the gears to look at the beautiful gold designs.

"Very well," Heimdall said. His hands gripped the sword's handle while he approached the centre, where Loki lifted Hel and took up the front position. The God planted a soft kiss atop her head.

"Remember," he muttered, "When we get there, it may frighten you. Just stay close to me and it will be alright. I won't let anything happen to you."

Hel nodded; "Yes, Daddy."

In a flash of multi-coloured light, the pair vanished from Asgard.

Teleporting through the Bifrost Bridge had always been a curious act for Hel. She felt it within her very being, as though it had an energy and life of its own, and whenever her feet touched solid ground again the girl thought she had become nothing more than a whisper of life. Why did it have to be so fast?

"Father," she said, shaking her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts, "Where are we?"

Wise green eyes looked out; "Helheim."

With a curious furrow of her brow, Hel raised her head.

The land was covered in ice. It stretched so far that it seemed nothing could escape eternal winter, and only when it reached a Forest in the distance did it dissipate into cold autumn. Treetops could be seen above a small peaked horizon, but so far was it that they were nothing but shapeless grey blobs.

Above, nothing could hope to penetrate the thick black swaths of cloud. Hel thought there was a storm coming. Even as she stood on top of the giant boulder they had landed on and clutched her father's hand, cold pierced through her thick winter coat, prickling her skin until it went numb. Why was it so gloomy? Why did the sun not shine? How could this have been her realm, filled with ice and snow and all things horrible?

"What…"

"Helheim, my girl. It's not a nice place."

"I…remember…"

She glanced over at a large frozen lake to the side, which looked at one time to be a place where ducks splashed and children frolicked. Something about it reminded her…what was that? An image of red splattered over white, a scream, and somewhere, way, way in the distance, a cruel laugh of something evil – something not of this world…

"What happened here?" she whispered, climbing down from the rocks as her father scrambled after his.

"Hel, stay with me-!"

She ignored him, instead rushing over to the frozen lake in the hopes it would jolt some lost memory. What was it that Loki wasn't telling her? Was it something to do with this land? It felt wrapped in something more sinister, something darker than snow, as if a horrible event had occurred there and whoever was involved had changed the land to suit them. Who was the ruler before her?

The ice felt solid under her fingertips. As she touched it, a flood of fresh emotions took her – anger, hatred, burning anxiety, an inferiority complex that drove her to the brink of madness and threatened to throw her over the edge. All of them were stronger than Asgard and Mjolnir combined. She reeled backwards, collapsing to the ground as though electrocuted, and found herself staring up into the dark clouds above.

"Helly!" Loki screeched, beside her in a flash; "What happened? Are you alright?" he touched her forehead before lifting her to her feet, his arms warm despite the chill encasing them.

"Yes…yes, I'm fine, Daddy. I just…what was that?" she stared at the frozen lake and swore she could see something long and black moving under the ice. "What happened here?"

"A great many things, my girl, and none of them particularly good. Perhaps we should wait to collect Garm. I'm sure he's well looked after-"

"No, I want my dog. If he's a loyal beast, he deserves to be rewarded for it. What kind of Queen would I be if I ignored my subjects?"

She took a step towards the road that wound its way across the land. It looked like a grey version of that story she once read – Midgardian, she remembered, about a girl called Dorothy and her dog Toto. This place felt like an eerie replica of that Oz land.

Helheim…

"Daddy?" the God's hand gripped his daughter's tight.

"Yes?"

"Once we have Garm, may we visit Fenrir?"

Loki stiffened; "Why would we do that, princess?"

"I miss him. I want to see him again."

"He may be busy. It could be a while-"

"He's my brother. Were he your youngest and I were him, would you deny him to see me?"

Those intelligent green eyes were on him, and all of a sudden he felt put on the spot. Fenrir would surely tell Hel something she shouldn't know. If not, he would mock Loki outright in front of her, until he saw red with the rage of shame.

"Perhaps, princess," Loki muttered as a giant castle appeared on the horizon, looking to Hel like a stone sun; "But not for a while. There's much for us to do on Asgard before we worry with anything else." He rattled her hand against his leg as if to encourage her agreement.

"But…you no longer have duties on Asgard."

"So some would believe. Speak no more of it, my girl; here we are."

And as Hel looked up at the castle of mock ice and stone, she felt her entire being sucked out of her soul, as though this place held with it a secret that would destroy her.


	5. Remember, Remember

As the castle drew nearer, Hel felt more and more uneasy. Her stomach gnawed away at her as though she were hungry, yet she had eaten not long before. Her mouth went dry like she needed a drink, but she wasn't thirsty, and besides that her father had made sure she drank before they went to Heimdall.

Perhaps it was just the air of the land affecting her. As the wind picked up and a slanted curtain of snow drifted across her vision, Hel could do no more than think about the awful things that had happened there – things that Loki still kept a secret.

"Wait."

They stopped just a few feet away from the huge entrance, Hel's hand clutching her father's as if he would disappear. Her small fingers were vice-like, and yet he could do no more than smile at her as she stared at the massive iron gates and twenty foot walls. It all looked so big – how was she supposed to rule Helheim when everything in it was so much larger than her?

"Something wrong?" he asked, crouching down so she could shuffle closer to him. She pushed herself into the curve of his body and put her back against his chest, her eyes wide, and wrapped his arms around her like a protective shield. Her chin rested on his bicep as he held her close; in a way, she looked like a little timid mouse staring out into a kitchen, where some cat was lurking in a hidden corner waiting for its next meal.

"No. Yes." She shook her head, restrained as it was with her father's chin on her shoulder. "Something's wrong with this place. Can we get the dog and leave?"

He nodded; "Of course we can. Come. Stay close to me, Helly."

After a few moments deep breathing and straightening herself up, Hel reached for the hand offered to her. The snow was now so thick that nothing could be seen. She could only faintly make out the iron bars in front of them, and even that required her to squint and accept what she saw as truth.

The gate creaked open and swung on rusted hinges. As it crashed into the stone wall, Hel half expected it to fall off, but despite its groans of protest and the sounds echoing through the courtyard, it held fast. The girl followed her father with acute awareness of the silence that fell over him. She felt his hand grip hers in a sudden show of protectiveness, but then he ended it in a squeeze and led her toward the doors.

Snow crunched under feet, whatever lived died, and as they wandered forward she could think of nothing else except what lay beyond those doors. Jewels? Souls? Something bitter and twisted? Something evil? She had no idea, nor did she want to think about it as a little trail of footprints raced to keep up with them in the snow.

Finally, they reached them. With a deep breath, Loki put his hand against the wood, cold and somehow as strong as steel, and pushed.

Hel looked out into the yawning mouth as her father opened the door. Inside, she could see nothing except a single spark flickering in the darkness, and beyond it there was something…a shadow? She had no idea. Her little hand clutched Loki's in terror while he pressed onwards, as though she thought something would spring out of the shadows and chase them back into that bitter cold.

All was silent.

It filtered through her skin and made her feel as though she were walking to her grave. The quiet was more like a death sentence than anything else. The darkness just went on and on, never-ending, never seeing a dim light at the end of a long tunnel like she had heard happened in death, and it made her wonder whether or not this land was Death itself.

Suddenly, a deafening bark roared from somewhere ahead. Hel jumped, throwing herself against her father, but in a split second she was torn away from him and held still by large, black and red hands. They reminded her of the Fire Giants. For that, she screamed.

"Let her go!" Loki shouted, struggling against his own restraints as more hands appeared out of the darkness, "Let her go!" Great fingers with sharpened nails gripped his shoulders and, despite fighting against them, he was held in place with dismaying ease.

Hel saw her father being dragged off. With a struggle on the hand holding her, the entire hall was filled with an ethereal, "No!"

Everything went still, as though possessed by calm. The hall's candles and wall sconces sprung to life. Around her, Hel could see portraits hanging on the upper walls, looking down at them with glinting mad eyes and wicked smiles; a throne behind her – perhaps a mock of Odin's, since its platform and stairs were nearly the same and only the throne itself was different, with mock ice and a hard seat – beside it lay something large, enshrouded by shadow, and as she stared at it Hel realised that it was a dog. Her dog. Garm. It was a lot bigger than she first thought.

And then she caught sight of who owned the hands holding her in place. It took every ounce of strength and willpower not to scream. As it was, Hel found herself staring into great red eyes like a frightened child staring at their death, with every second that passed feeling longer than the one before.

"Release me," she ordered, and just like that she was free. Confusion filtered through her mind but she dare not question it; she had seen these creatures before, in her nightmares; a childhood terror come to life.

"Let him go."

Loki was dropped to the floor. Another bark sounded around the room, but it sounded happier, and with it came claws scrabbling against stone as Garm lumbered over to his mistress. He was so much bigger than her. If he had a mind to – or the intelligence – he would have swallowed her whole.

Hel's hand trembled out to touch his nose. Garm barked again and she flinched, but then grew confident as he wagged a huge brown tail and a large tongue came to lick her hand.

"Hello there," she said, her voice a murmur, "Are you my dog?"

He woofed.

"We've come to collect you. You're coming to live with us on Asgard, so I can look after you."

The demons around her growled something nonsensical. It was enough to catch Hel's attention, making her look up to see that the one that was holding her – something told her its name was Geneva, but she remembered Geneva to be someone beautiful and small – was gesturing to the throne. Hel glanced at Loki, and saw him staring at her with wide eyes.

"No, Hel," he warned, "Do not sit on that throne. Trust me, nothing good will come of it. Just get Garm and we'll be off."

But something pushed Hel towards that throne like a moth to flame. She wanted to sit on it. She needed to sit on it. Something…felt right about being there. But the land was evil, was it not? She had no wish to rule over a place so sinister.

With a deep breath, Hel closed her eyes, and took a step forward.


	6. Arguments

By the time they returned to Asgard, the trio were cold and wet. Hel's head was resting on her father's shoulder when they appeared on the Bifrost, Garm howling as though in pain, and Heimdall called out to Thor who had been waiting for them on the bridge.

"They've returned, my Prince." He said in his even voice. When he turned back and noticed Hel was sleeping, though, even Heimdall couldn't help a little smile.

The blond warrior strode in with a smile on his face; "Brother! How was the trip? You look frozen."

"We are quite," he admitted, his lips stretching into a wild grin when he watched how Thor flinched away from Garm, "Helheim is still the cold wasteland I remembered it to be. Hel was…"

He trailed off, eyes worried. Hel had been quite hesitant about her realm, then curious about the horrors she could only half-remember happening there. It had taken a great deal of cajoling to take her from the castle without first letting her sit on her throne, and despite the fact she had obeyed him Loki still felt that her interest would get the better of her. His daughter would surely feel guilty for what she had done. He couldn't risk her feeling like a monster, not when she had come back as his intelligent little girl.

Thor noticed his change in mood, and with a quick glance to make sure Garm wouldn't lunge at him he carefully put his hand on the God's shoulder. Just the touch, knowing his brother was there, helped Loki think straight.

"You're cold," the warrior said. Around him the ball and nozzle of the Bifrost were clunking back into place, and it threatened to drown out his voice as Heimdall took up the centre of the gears. "Come; we shall talk in the palace. After…after we've fed Hel's pet."

An hour later, with Garm's snout pressed into a punch bowl filled with meat, Loki and Thor sat opposite each other in the dining room. Documents littered the table like artificial snow. It felt as though Odin was planning another war; they were all preaching peace, though, and by a quick glance Loki could see nothing that said he was thinking out strategies.

"Loki," green eyes snapped up to meet cool blue, concerned as the warrior leaned forward; "Hel…she's not…remembering, is she? What happened before...this?"

The God sighed, leaning forward himself to prop his elbows on the table, "I hope not. I'm sure it's a need-to-know thing; Hel loved her dog very much, and Garm was miserable without her."

Hel had been taken away by one of the maids, much to Loki's disdain. He hated the idea of someone else putting her to bed, someone else making her comfortable, but because he sensed Thor wanted to speak he had held back. Now he wished he had insisted on going with them. What did Asgardian women know about _his_ daughter? They would never go about her care with the same precision he did.

"If she is, we will need a plan – a way to tell her what happened."

"Why must she know? It's in the past." Loki sat up straighter as his eyes burned into Thor's. There was a challenge in there, perhaps not entirely restricted to their conversation, but nevertheless he spoke of nothing but Hel, "Tell her anything, anything you want, but do not tell her that. Tell her about my betrayal, my misdeeds, my crimes and my punishment – tell her how her mother is missing and we've no idea where she is – tell her anything, but do not tell her that."

If Thor didn't know any better, he could have sworn he heard a note of desperation in his brother's voice. The way it lowered just a bit, how he leaned forward and flattened his hand against the table; it all seemed like a man who had lost everything, and instead of feeling bitter decided to instead preserve what life had given him back.

"Loki, you know I would never harm Hel-"

"Debateable."

"But," Thor pressed on, "we must think of what might happen if she were to discover it on her own. If she somehow finds a document, or one of the maids tells her-"

"Then the maid is punished and Helly is told otherwise. She won't believe a maid over her own family, will she?"

"And how do you propose we punish her, Loki? String her up? Feed her to Garm?" he gestured to the hulking great mass in the corner of the room, which had devoured all of his food and started to sniff around the bookcase.

Loki nodded; "If that is what it takes, yes. My Helly will not be guilty for something that was never her fault. Whatever happened in the past is nothing now; the future is more important to me than wallowing over Hel's mistakes."

"It's not a matter of her mistakes! It's a matter of her deserving to know what happened – how she defied death just to be with you!"

"Enough, Thor! As Hel's father, I won't have you telling her about the past. Talk about Helheim, if you must. Talk about the war in detail if it will sate you. But do not tell her anything that might make her remember what she once was, and don't attempt to justify it with her right to know!"

With that, the God stormed out of the room, presumably on his way to make sure Hel was tucked in bed. There had been a few incidences where she had escaped from the maids.

Thor could only watch him go. It felt strange to see him as a father again, after so long with just memories. But could he truly believe Hel would never find out what happened? Did he not remember how clever she was? Perhaps he was just hopeful; for years, the God had thought he would never have his little girl again. To suddenly be given this second chance…

Snuffling caught his attention, and when Thor looked to see the giant dog beside him, tail wagging and tongue lolling out of his mouth, he made a decision.

He had to see Steve and get his advice on the matter.


	7. Interruption

Garm was given his own special corner in the palace's courtyard; soon enough, even Odin had begun to believe him useful. The oaf would lie in the sun where everyone could see him, warming fur long frozen, and his great tongue would loll out of his mouth to reveal razor-sharp teeth. No thief would dare pit themselves against the dog. They would sooner have their arms sawn off.

Hel spent a lot of her free time with him. When Loki had been locked back in the dungeon and she found herself alone, Garm gave her the perfect distraction.

The hot sun was beginning to disappear one late afternoon, throwing shadows over the courtyard as the girl raced back and forth with her beast. They rolled for what seemed like hours over the dusty stone. Higher up, on the balconies, Thor was gazing down at them, leaning over the railing in an attempt to watch more closely, and felt his heart burst with love for his young niece.

"Garm!" she squealed in excitement when he picked her up by her scruff, as though she were his baby and he would do anything to protect her; "Put me down! Put me down!"

But the creature did no such thing – instead, he threw her up in the air and caught her, standing on his great hind legs each time she flew up like he was batting the clouds in the sky. Everything seemed so simple with a dog. He was loyal, and loyalty in any form was hard to come by.

Which was why Thor was battling his demons on whether or not to go to Steve. He had made the decision before, yet after a night's sleep his mind had woken conflicted. The Captain would give him advice, tell him what he would do in the situation, but was it really their decision when Loki had already told him no? It seemed that the days of simple answers were far behind him; Thor realised that as he grew older, morality became more and more of a grey area.

In his reverie, the warrior hadn't noticed a fleet of horses approaching the courtyard's gates. Too caught up with his niece, Thor didn't realise until Hel looked up and Garm lowered himself to his haunches, great canines glinting in the waning sunlight.

Hel looked at the army in front of her. Tall men, each one with a suit of armour – Asgardian, she thought with relief. Easing her shoulders, the girl stood up and straightened her clothes, as though she felt it her duty to represent the palace in all its glory. As she approached the gate where the lead horseman was dismounting, Garm growled behind her.

"Settle," she warned, stroking his nose while they crept forward, "These men are of Asgard. They won't harm us."

The lead horseman caught sight of her, and seemed not to be fazed by her oversized pet. His brown eyes burned through the steel helmet, crafted until it would fit on no one's head except his own, yet even with it she could see the beard spilling from his chin and flowing to his chest.

"Princess," he greeted, voice roughened by hardship, "Could you fetch the King?"

"King Odin is on important business," she said, "I'm afraid he won't be available."

"Tell him that I have important news regarding the continued peace with Vanaheim."

"Why would that be news? Vanaheim has been peaceful with us since before my grandmother…" the thought of Frigga made Hel trail off. Surely, with her death, the realm in which she hailed wouldn't have blamed them? It would be the final nail in the coffin of her grandmother's legacy, if they did.

"They have much to discuss with the King – and only the King," he said the words with emphasise, hand clutching the bars of the gate, "Not a little girl."

Garm growled again and lurched forward as if he thought Hel was in danger. In a threatening pose, the dog placed his paws either side of her, mouth open above her head with his great eyes staring daggers into the horseman. It was enough to make him flinch back. It wasn't enough to make him rethink his position.

Another voice boomed through the clearing; "Men! What reason do you come?"

Hel turned to see her uncle striding across the shaded stone, clad in his armour like he was about to ride into battle. In a matter of moments she was picked up and placed on his shoulder; she thought it ridiculous, but it served as a good reminder to the men that she was still a part of the royal family, no matter how young she was.

"Vanaheim sent a missive this morning in regards to our peace treaty. I thought it best that the Allfather was told immediately."

"And so you come here, interrupt my niece's play and insult her role in Asgard?"

"No, my Prince – I would never dream-"

"What's done is done," Hel dismissed, patting her dog as he stalked up to their side; "Must we feel ashamed of our mistakes when we have moved on from them? Take it as a learning experience. Do not speak to me like that again." Her voice was ethereal once more; a warning if the horseman had ever heard one, and he could only nod in acceptance as Thor's eyes burned holes in his head.

Time passed slowly after that. The horsemen were let into the palace and made their way to the King, who as Hel had said was doing important work in terms of economy. Thor went to the dungeon to retrieve Loki and, though he wanted to, he spoke nothing of the lead horseman's insults to Hel, since he knew it would only enrage the God and make matters worse.

Striding into the throne room, Loki made a beeline to his daughter. When he lifted her from the floor, the lead horseman – who was now standing at the bottom of Odin's throne – thought how lucky he was that the God was nowhere in the courtyard.

"There's my pretty girl," he cooed, "Did you have fun playing with Garm?"

"Daddy."

Hel smiled at her father despite the tense atmosphere. If everything was about to burn, at least she still had him. She would always have him.

"What's the meaning of this interruption?" Odin asked as he stalked to the edge of the platform.

"Sir…" the horseman breathed; "Vanaheim has threatened war."


	8. Late Night Threats

"I don't want you to go."

"Then I will not."

"The Allfather will make you. You won't want to, but you will leave me again."

Hel let her head fall forward, defeated, and Loki couldn't help but scoop her into his arms and rest her against his chest. He pulled her into his lap, rocking them both on her bed as if it would help comfort his little girl.

"Oh, Helly, Helly, Helly," he sighed, "No matter what he does to me, Odin can't make me fight for his side. Have I not made it clear to you? Muspelheim won't be repeated; I will never, ever leave you again."

That sparked a fragment of a memory in Hel's head. She could see herself running, running through some dark place as though fleeing an enemy. Rocks were blurred blobs around her – each time she looked back, she could see a flash of amethyst, but the glimpse was gone just as soon as it had arrived.

"What was that…?" she wondered aloud.

"What, my girl?" her father's jaw moved against the top of her head, his hand stroking her arm as he cradled her back and forth. The moonlight outside glowed around the soft baby blue curtains, drawn so that Hel wouldn't be frightened by the tree, and somewhere inside her the girl thought the moon could have helped her remember more.

Shaking her head, she cleared her thoughts; "I remembered something."

Loki froze. His body was so stiff Hel thought for a moment he had turned into a board, but her head was still resting on his warm chest and she could still hear his heartbeat, now thrumming at twice the speed.

"Did you?" he asked, voice small, "What was it?"

"I…I'm…not sure. I was running. At least, I think it was me – no, yes, definitely. It was definitely me."

"Running from what?"

"I've no idea. There were branches above me, and when I looked back I could see…amethyst?"

Loki's heartbeat was getting faster; "Anything else, Helly?"

The girl shook her head. No matter how far she reached into her mind, there was something in her way – something that thought these things were better left unseen.

"I see no more. I want to, Daddy. I want to know why I can remember…things that never happened to me."

Loki squeezed his eyes shut, Thor's words echoing in his head. Did he have the heart to tell Hel everything that had happened to her? Could he explain to her that she had murdered someone in cold blood, turned her Giant-ling friends into demons, ruled over the land she now feared with an iron fist, and tried to kill him? It all seemed like the right thing to do, perhaps even the most moral thing, but he couldn't bring himself to. What father would put his daughter through such pain? What father would have his daughter upset like that, by his own words, if it could be avoided?

"Perhaps you've dreamt it, my girl?" he offered, angry and relieved with his lie; "I would suspect as much. Your mind is so full of knowledge, some of it must leak out through your dreams."

"What knowledge would have me running through a forest?"

"Knowledge of freedom, my girl. To feel the wind rush through your hair, the air in your lungs, the ground flying under your feet. Your knowledge of being free and unhindered makes you wild with excitement, and because of what you must do – because of me – you must settle with being kept in Asgard, almost as locked away as I."

His fingers ran through her long black hair, so beautiful and straight that he could have sworn it was cared for every day. Its silky feel and her big green eyes staring up at him made his own eyes look down.

"I'm sorry for what I've done to you."

"Daddy?"

He looked back up. Hel was looking concerned, leaning up to his face as though she could sense his unhappiness, and when she blinked a sort of hidden understanding rested in her eyes.

"You have done nothing to me," she said, almost confused, "The Allfather made you leave, and when I woke up from my slumber you were beside me again. You have kept me safe when I thought I was in danger." She lifted her hand and, summoning her great strength, a thin stream of purple came out of her fingertips. It danced around Loki for a moment, only to lift above them and vanish like the Northern Lights. "And you teach me things. Important things."

"You truly have so much faith in me?" he asked. His voice was soft, almost hesitant, and it confused Hel to see the intense happiness that sparkled in his eyes.

"Yes. I love you, Daddy."

Her hand was encased by his, squeezed as though he thought she was about to disappear. All traces of fear vanished from his eyes as Loki looked down at his daughter, the gift that life had given back, and realised yet again the extent of his love for her.

"Then trust me when I say that the Allfather will not take me away from you again."

Just as her father was holding her close again, ready to sing her a lullaby that would send her to sleep, there was a loud knock at the door. The God looked up, annoyed, as he placed Hel down on her bed and quickly tucked her in.

"Stay here, my girl," he muttered, "I will be back in a moment."

He disappeared out of the room in a puff of green. Moments later, the soft hum of voices could be heard outside her door, and Hel – being Hel – moved out of the bed to see what was going on.

She pressed her ear to the door, ignoring the fact her feet were cold and her winter coat was draped over the chair on the other side of the room. What she heard was enough to make her burn red with rage.

"I will not go charging into battle with you after what happened last time, Thor. Do you not remember what I went through? What my daughter went through? Lock me away for it if you must, but do not expect me to fight for a land I can't even call my own."

"Loki, you know I've fought for your right to stay behind, but the Allfather is adamant."

"Let him be adamant! What do I care? I'm little to you but a freelance prisoner. My duties here range to protecting my daughter and lending a hand wherever my skills are needed."

"Loki…he says he will send Hel back to Helheim if you refuse."

There was a pause. Then;

"What?"

"I begged him to rethink the matter, but he's commanded that if you were to go against him, the guards have permission to tell Hel everything and send her on her way."

"That…that lying-!"

"Loki, calm down-"

"I'll murder him. I'll take his beating heart and show it to him-"

"Loki, if you keep speaking like this I will have to take you down to the dungeon. Go – be with Hel. I will try, but I doubt Odin will change his mind."

But as the argument raged on, Hel only had one question in her mind.

Tell her what?


	9. Little Miss Escapo

For the next few days, Loki was gone.

Hel had no idea where he went. She knew he was still on Asgard – she heard guards whispering about him now and again, but when they noticed she was there they went quiet. It frustrated her to no end.

And after three days, her patience had run dry. The girl stalked into the throne-room on the morning of the fourth day, eyes narrowed and lips a hard frown, as she took into account the neat rows of soldiers listening to her grandfather. He was talking about something; some matter of honour, she was sure. It was all she could do not to tremble at the warriors in front of her.

They would not stop her from making her voice heard.

Shouldering them to the side and making herself a path, the girl fought through men who towered over her, some of which she recognised from her visits to the realm. All of them were seasoned warriors. If they were having this speech, war was surely on the horizon.

"And I would hope you…" the King trailed off when he noticed the lines part for just a moment, allowing Hel to move forward and stand in front of the steps. Again, he was reminded just how close they had come to being her enemy. It was strange to think that she had no memory of what had happened, no recollection of the past three hundred and eighty five years, and yet there was no greater joy than knowing they would never have to clash with his beloved granddaughter.

"Allfather," she said, her voice combined with magic and ice, making her more fearsome for thought of her magical gifts; "Today is the fourth day I've been without my father. Do you have an explanation for me?"

The King sighed, as though he had been expecting the question. It was true that Hel had been quite silent on the matter and, if he was being honest, Odin had barely noticed her presence in the four days she was alone. But that didn't mean he was prepared to take her attitude.

"You will one day understand the things I have to do, Hel."

"That's not an explanation."

"Loki refused to do something I ordered him to, and on top of that he has condemned us all by not joining in the war efforts. I had no choice." He sat down on his throne like a puppet with its strings cut. Hel could swear she almost heard his old bones creaking.

"What have you done to my father?!" the tiny princess stormed forward, stopping just a few feet shy of the stairs. It was almost terrifying to see her so angry. Like she was holding herself back through the sheer will of her character; that the magic inside her veins could pour out at any moment, a fountain that would surely give everyone in the room practice for war.

But Odin was adamant that he wasn't going to feel guilty for his actions; "I did what had to be done, Hel. He disobeyed me again. He provoked guards and told Thor that he would have no part defending Asgard. When it came to me that he was intent on following through with his plans, I had to make an example of him."

Hel felt tears prick her eyes. By the way Odin spoke, it sounded as though he had executed the God and left his body out on display. But she had not seen the banners or heard the rumours; if her father was truly dead, Hel would know. She could still feel his presence. He was still alive.

In a moment of unrivalled anger, purple began to form around the girl's body. Her magic was charging up as she struggled to gain control of her emotions. If she didn't find a place in her mind where she could cool off, all was lost in the way of her argument.

The warriors were backing away. Too many times had they seen what Hel's magic could do; they would never go up against her unless they had enough manpower, or they believed she had enough control of it that it wouldn't explode in a fiery ball of purple rage.

"I want my father." She said; "You will bring him to me now, or you will suffer the consequences!"

"Careful, Hel – your words are close to treason."

"And would you have me killed for them? Is that what you've done? Am I an orphan now, or have you got my mother locked up as well?"

She turned, gesturing to the men behind her. Her eyes were beginning to grow brighter, like lights in the middle of the night, slowly changing colour as her desperation reached its peak.

"Do you not see the injustice?" she asked, more to the men than to Odin, "My father is a good man! He loves me and protects me where everyone else would sooner see me dead! Do you have any idea of my struggles with magic? No! But he does! He does, and he still loves me for it!"

The warriors looked on, horrified. Hel's eyes had gone from green to amethyst, a dark reminder of a past they thought had disappeared.

"Why do you condemn me to having no one at my side?!" her voice was becoming more and more powerful; "I would see all of you with happy lives and strong homes, yet you would rather I lose…I lose…"

And just like that, the magic evaporated. Hel's anger subsided into sadness as she retreated from the men, her eyes changing back to dark green while her face lost every ounce of rage it had in it. She seemed…tired. Defeated.

Turning back to the King, Hel tried to compose herself before speaking again; "Please, Allfather. I beg you to look past the war efforts and not condemn me. I beg you to speak on civil terms with Vanaheim, to avoid battle at every cost, and give back to me my father. He's all I have left."

"You have the dog, and your mother. Your brothers, too."

"Garm…comforts me. But you know as well as I that my brothers and mother are lost. Wherever Angrboda is, she is not concerned with me. My brothers…my brothers…I will one day know why Father is so hesitant to let me see them. I have lost three family members to the chains of time, Odin. Please; do not make it so I have to lose my Daddy."

For a moment, it seemed as though Hel had gotten through to him. He lifted his great head up to look at her, contemplating his options, and then stood to gesture to the room.

"Here are all the men who are willing to lay down their lives for you, Hel. They come from all across the realm, and each one has a family of their own. So who am I to spare Loki when I do not spare them? Where do the guidelines end? When Thor returns from his trip to the Avengers, perhaps Loki will see sense. Until then, he will remain, and serve his punishment just as the rest of our cowards."

"How dare you accuse him of cowardice!"

"And if you are not careful, Hel, you will be joining him."

That was the end of the discussion. The girl could see there would be no more arguing with him and, instead of carrying on, she turned and marched out into the courtyard.

Above her, the skies had clouded over, until they reminded her of the clouds in Helheim. Rain began to patter onto the ground as she caught sight of Garm, hiding out in a makeshift kennel to avoid the spit.

"Come here, boy," she encouraged. When the lumbering oaf had braved the rain and joined her, she stroked his snout with a small smile.

He sensed her discomfort.

"It's…Garm, we must leave. We have to leave Asgard, before it's too late."

The dog cocked his head to one side.

"We will go to Vanaheim first. If we can find a way to secure peace, then we will return and tell the Allfather."

His woof echoed across the courtyard. Rain had begun to fall hard now, and with a shiver the girl went on with her plan.

"If we fail…we move on. We go wherever we can to find out about these memories. I know Daddy is hiding something, Garm, I just know it; if we cannot find a way to release him, I will at least find a way to uncover him."

Another bark, a happy wag of the tail, and Garm was all for the plan. He would follow his mistress to the ends of the universe if it meant he could protect her.

"But…" she sighed, "I must first find out where he is. Wait here, Garm; if I'm not back within two hours, cause a disturbance. It will make it easier for me to escape. I may yet come back with Daddy."


	10. Safe Love

And so in the dead of night, when Odin was sleeping and Thor paced his gleaming bedroom floor, a shadow hurried across the throne room.

So quick was it that even the guards thought it was a trick of the mind. They turned away from the windows, sure that the moon had made them mad, as a tiny silhouette disappeared through the hidden double doors and down the wide steps to the dungeon.

The steps always confused her. For one they were so much simpler than the steps of the palace, which meandered and wound until they became more a design feature than anything else. Security, she remembered Frigga once saying. But these stairs…it was like a simple walk to the edge of a river, and that thought made her wonder how something so sinister could have such a feel to it.

The criminals went wild as she entered, as they always did when the girl came to visit. Some remembered her from the old days; they would tell her that she wasn't one of them, that her blood ran with black ink and death, but whenever she asked her father what they meant he would dismiss their words as mad ravings.

"Why would criminals speak honestly, sweetheart?" he'd purr, "You'd do far better to ignore them. Jealous of your beauty, perhaps."

And so she had, but as they watched her walking through the aisles in search of Loki – unaccompanied by Thor or her usual guards – their words only grew more mocking, until they were all she could hear in the fog of her half-thought plan.

"There's the girl with the big bad magic," sneered one woman, or what she thought was a woman, with three eyes standing up on stalks on her back and a pursed set of blue lips; "Come to burn us alive? Or is it freezing you do? Never know with you Jotuns."

Hel ignored her, swerving into the next aisle and continuing her search. Her father had to be there somewhere. Amongst all the real criminals, the real offenders, the people who brought war and crime and disease and hatred, and who believed that Odin should have choked on his own tongue. These were the convicts who deserved to be clapped in irons. To Hel, they were nothing but reckless fanatics for anarchy, with no idea how important a monarchy was when it came to times of war.

A loud gasp sounded in one of the glass cells, catching her attention. A bloom of hope exploded in her chest that it would be her father, but no such luck. She came face to face with a toothless old man instead. Wiry grey hair sprung out of his head like a matted mop, tangled with bits of twig and dirt, and around him were the remnants of what Hel believed to be clothes – as it was, he was half-covered by a purple blanket.

"You!" he exclaimed, voice wizened, "You were the one!"

"Excuse me?" she asked. She couldn't help it; it felt as though this man could tell her something no other would.

"I saw you before! When you were…more grown up."

"Grown up?" she narrowed her eyes, taking a step towards the glass and placing her hand against it; "What are you talking about? Spit it out, madman."

"I came to your realm. I saw you with them. First to make it out alive, they say. You were telling the demons to go out to different markets, telling them to bring back whatever they could. Planning for a war, I think. How you hated Asgard."

His cracked chuckles sent shivers down her spine; "You're insane."

"No – no! That's what they say, but I'm not. You would have had me killed, had you seen me. You could have my soul in that Forest right now. But no, no; I was too quick for you. I was too sneaky for you. I left before you knew I was there!"

"You're lying. You speak about something that hasn't happened. If you want to settle my wrath, you will tell me where they're keeping my father!"

"Ooo, you were wearing such a lovely crown. I remember. I remember it, and yet they don't believe me…"

"Tell me where my father is!"

"Could have probably stolen from you, too. You were so busy; wouldn't have noticed little old me creeping into your castle, would you? Though you did have that beastie Garm…"

Hel's patience was running out. All of her magic did nothing but coat the glass in a swath of purple, and as she realised it had no effect her tactics changed. The girl turned, her face blank and yet enraged, to look instead for her father on her own. As she rushed down the aisle, she could still hear the old man calling.

"Could have killed you! But…you would have killed me! The past, the past – can't correct our mistakes! You should know, Queen!"

She tried to ignore the wild cries around her. She tried to block out the yells and taunts to just focus on what was happening, and yet the more she did so the more she could hear them. Long stone aisles filled with glass boxes, which inside harboured the most villainous souls ever to walk the seams of time; she was amongst them, one of them, searching for a father she still believed to be with her.

Just when the voices were becoming too much, Hel stopped. The massive glass box in front of her, squirreled away in the darkest corner of the dungeon, was infused with magic and locked at the doors by iron and steel, more so than the others. Inside, she could see a man kneeling with his head down low – a man with raven black hair and long limbs, who wore a green garment with black leather sewn in.

"Daddy!" she cried.

Loki looked up to see her rushing to the glass. His face was bruised, not horribly so, but enough to notice against his pale skin. His eyes went wide when he saw her.

"Helly!" he said, struggling against his chains, but to no avail, "What are you doing here? You should be in bed! You should not have come down here without Thor!"

He watched as her hands came up against the glass, so small that he almost mistook her for vulnerable; "Daddy…the bruise…"

"It's nothing, my girl. Merely a tap. Nothing I can't handle."

"I'll save you. If…if I just have some time, I can save you."

"You will do no such thing. I asked Thor to keep you away from here! That oaf; he had one job, and he failed!"

"I had to find you. If I left you here alone, I wouldn't have the chance to say goodbye."

Loki paused. He took his daughter into account for a moment – the big green eyes, the small frown, the tears that threatened against her eyelids as she gave him her trademark stare – and then tried to shuffle forward so he could be nearer to her.

"What do you mean goodbye?" he asked, voice low.

"The Allfather may declare war with Vanaheim, but he cannot go to war with a peaceful realm. I'm going to save us all. I'm going to speak with Vanaheim's leader and make him see that our worlds can live peacefully with one another."

Loki's eyes went soft; "Oh, Helly, Helly, Helly. My brave, hopeful little Helly. You give me hope for the future. But think clearly – what can you do to ease this tension?"

If there was any truth in her eyes, it was that Hel hadn't thought that far. So blinded was she by her plan that she hadn't pieced together what she wanted to do, only that she wanted to do it quickly.

Loki edged closer, chains permitting; "I know how tempting it is to charge off and try to solve things, sweetheart, but you'll be in grave danger if you do. I would never forgive myself if you were hurt. Please, my girl – do not do this, if only to keep yourself safe."

His voice was so loving that Hel almost agreed with him. She would do anything for her father, anything if it meant she was making him proud, but as she thought of sneaking back to her room and waiting out the war it made her fill with dread.

With a soft sigh, the girl kissed the glass between them and smiled at her father.

"Be safe, Daddy," she pleaded.

"No, Hel," he said as she got up; "No, Hel, don't. Hel!"

"I'll come back for you. I promise!" the princess darted through the aisles again, and Loki could do no more than struggle against his chains.

His screams were lost in air filled with madmen's howls.

"No, Hel, come back here! Hel! Hel!"


	11. Disappearing Act

Hel knew that Heimdall would never allow her to escape.

That was why she was wandering the narrow floor of the vault, wherein she hoped Odin would have stored some souvenir of a forgotten war that would help her get out of Asgard. Behind her Garm tried his best not to knock everything over, drooling over the polished stone flooring as they crept between the relics.

"Keep your eyes sharp, Garm," Hel said in an urgent whisper, "If you see anything you think might help us, whine."

The dog could do no more than nod. His nose was tingling with the scent of danger mixed with magic but, no matter how much he wanted to, Garm held back, stopping himself from snapping Hel's coat scruff between his teeth and carrying her out of the vault. Doomed to forever listen to her orders, perhaps. She would have rebuked him if he did anything less.

Strange devices lined the copper-coloured shelves, some of which were locked behind glass. They whispered in hushed voices something about power – her power? Hel could have sworn she heard her name at one time, but for some reason whatever link she had to those objects was severed by her own magic.

_Protecting me,_ she decided; _These must be things of great destruction. Don't lose sight of things, Hel. Find what you need and get out._

For what seemed like hours the pair just paced aimlessly back and forth. Garm whined at a few things, but most of them were meant for war-use and would never have helped them to escape. Hel was losing hope; somewhere in her mind, she was contemplating going straight to Heimdall and making her case, but just as that thought came she turned her heel on a loose slab of stone.

It turned underneath her. With a loud _clunk_ the wall began to shake, the devices balanced on it being swallowed up into some sort of unseen storage system as locks began to turn and faint machine echoes filled the air. Garm leapt forward to shield his mistress from the movement. In his tiny brain, it was just another thing that could hurt her.

"What in the Nine Worlds…?"

When the wall had sunk into the floor, it revealed a small room. No bigger than a maid's chamber, intricate patterns ran along the walls and spilled out onto the floors, blessed with a glowing purple magic that highlighted its deep grooves.

In the middle of all these patterns was a single glass case, standing on a leg of shining metal. As the pair began to relax, they realised it was hiding away a crown, with nine jagged spikes that looked sharp enough to slice fingers, a lone emerald glittering away on the middle spike.

Hel was almost mesmerised. She could feel the energy thrumming through the air, each pulsating beat like music to her ears. Almost without thought the Queen stepped forward, and Garm whined as she began to approach the middle of the room.

"Shh," she soothed, hand back, though it didn't stop her from creeping towards the case.

As if the crown was meant for her, the glass began to disappear. Hel's hand reached forward and took it by the base – it was the perfect shape for her head, she realised, and as she inspected it she realised the energy behind it was one of malevolence.

"Perhaps they made it for me?" she thought aloud, making Garm's head cock to one side; "When they gave me Helheim. I assume I have it out of distant relation? Who was the King of Niflheim before me? I…there's so much I don't know about this land…"

As she felt the cool metal in her hand, Hel felt a compulsion to wear it. With a long, drawn out sigh, the girl lifted it into the air with both hands, glanced back at Garm, and eased her shoulders.

"Perhaps this will help us escape."

A loud boom echoed through the vault.

Hel felt the head band tighten around her skull until she thought she would never be able to take it off. The magic began to entwine with her very soul, ripping her apart as the surrounding world melted into nothing but ever-lasting pain, hatred and anger.

Her scream was muffled by thrumming energy.

When it began to ebb, so did the pain. Hel found herself able to stand, wondering when she had fallen to the floor in the first place, and Garm's worrying presence at her side suddenly came into existence as she glanced around the room.

The patterns had stopped glowing with magic. As if they had been waiting for to come and get the crown, it had disappeared inside her bones and laced itself all through her blood. She could feel it. A hot entity that threatened to devour her; it was something she thought would never be satisfied, not with her soul or anyone else's.

"I'm fine, Garm," she assured the beast, "Just…just startled, that's all. Come here. I think I have a way out of this place."

Garm barked at her, licking the patch of hair that sat in the middle of her crown. When Hel glanced down, she realised her long winter coat was stained with something– soot? - and her clothes underneath were black, as though the crown had taken her white shirt and trousers and cursed them.

"This is very strange," she muttered.

The dog agreed with a sharp nod of its great head. Hel was lifted onto its back as she touched the emerald on her crown, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

"I wonder why this was locked away?"

Silence met her words. Even Garm could shed no light on their situation, as though even he had forgotten the times when his mistress was Queen.

"Pray that this works, Garm," she sighed while she clutched a handful of his fur, "I'm not sure how teleportation spells work."

The dog, with complete faith in his mistress, lowered his head and woofed happily beneath her. Hel could hear the dozens of footsteps above her head as guards came to investigate the noises in the vault. She only had one teleportation spell in her head – something she had studied herself, and had very little practice with other than an occasional spot of reading.

"_Our needs are great, our world is gone," _she muttered; "_We must escape those who do wrong. May we live a day in a land more calm, myself and my dog, my loyal pet Garm."_

Just as the guards trampled down the stairs to see Hel and her dog, the pair vanished from sight.


	12. Jungle Crown

Loki had struggled against his chains for hours after Hel's visit – until his wrists were sore and all he could hear were his own screams. It felt as though his entire world was crumbling. Not only had he been imprisoned for not going to war but his daughter had revealed her mad plot to save him, putting herself in harm's way without a clear idea of what she was doing. If he didn't go after her, history could repeat itself before he had a chance to stop it.

"Hel!" his throat was on fire; "Hel!" all the criminals had settled down since it happened, and stayed silent to enjoy Loki's screams. Many of them had been put in those cells by Thor and so, in some strange way, to know the warrior's own brother had sunk so low, to know the pain he was in, was more satisfying than escaping and wreaking havoc on Asgard.

The pair arrived in Vanaheim's outskirts; a world of tall trees and unruly vines, where animals could creep through the undergrowth without fear and nature was dominant. Garm seemed more natural in this place than Hel. The Queen clutched her dog's fur in anticipation for what was to come – how she would approach the Vanir without them attacking her, or using her as a negotiation point with Asgard.

"I feared we would end up here," she admitted as Garm began to shoulder the vines out of the way, the landscape having made him a virtual King, "I never thought the spell would take us to the heart of Vanaheim, but I had hoped…"

Marching could be heard above Loki's screams. When he saw the first few armoured guards appear, he knew one of his worst fears had to be true; that either Hel had left Asgard, or she had been caught in the act and was now being sentenced to his fate. As he saw Thor approach the glass, he realised what the answer was.

The warrior was gentle when he said it, or at least as gentle as he could be; "Loki…Hel has escaped."

Trees were smaller on Giantland, Hel remembered. They never stretched up to block out the sky, and if the sun couldn't penetrate the leaves it was because the branches were too fanned out, too heavy with flowers. It was never because the trees themselves could blot out the sun. As the two ventured further into the thick green depths of the jungle, she could hear some creature sounding too close to them, and a variety of birds crying somewhere from the East.

"How can the Vanir love this place? There's no evidence of their mark, nothing to say they are even one with nature. I can see no history or architecture. I can only see vines."

Garm woofed to respond, though his brain couldn't handle half of what she was saying. To him, the jungle was more like a world full of opportunities, a place he could dominate and rule much like Hel did Niflheim. He saw nothing wrong with the vines except that they hung down in his path. He felt cool underneath the trees; not hot or frozen, the dog knew this was where his ancestors would have roamed without leash, without orders, and without the need to rely on others for their food.

But Garm didn't want that – he wanted to obey Hel and remain at her side, so that he could prove his loyalty in a way no other could. If he were to abandon his Queen to rule a land which could never truly be ruled, he would be abandoning everything he wanted since he was a pup.

"You did this," Loki hissed as his brother unlocked his chains, rubbing his wrists the moment they came loose, "You and that pathetic King of yours. If you hadn't imprisoned me, Hel would never have gone to Vanaheim."

Thor grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him to his feet; "We must go after her. If we don't, we risk igniting this war and having her taken hostage."

"I care very little about the war," Loki turned to face Thor from his side, shoulder out, arm bent at the elbow as he pinched the air in front of him, "But now you oafs have caused my daughter to go out and seek peace on her own. Have you learnt _nothing_?!"

The guards could only watch as their prince and prisoner spoke, nervous for what Hel's disappearance meant. Odin had been grave when he heard the crown was missing. And they all remembered the girl before her resurrection, before she had forgotten all that had happened to her and became the innocent magic-wielder she was before.

"This must be the Utangard," Hel thought aloud, "but where are all the Vanir? The elves must have some sort of housing. Or perhaps they sleep outside…?"

"Loki, she has the crown."

The God stopped mid-sentence in a detailed rant about Thor's thick head, staring at him as though he had just been told Angrboda was back. A blank face met the revelation, eyes bright, while Loki tried to piece together all the information that was being thrown at him.

"Truly?" he asked, voice small.

Thor nodded; "We mustn't waste time. If she has the crown, there's a chance-"

"That she may remember everything and lose her mind! Are you an idiot, brother?! Do you insist on doing this to me?! My daughter is out there by herself with that crown, and we have no idea what the Vanir will do to her once they know she's among them."

"She's not entirely alone. She has Garm with her."

"Wonderful! A toddler and her dog – that will prove good defence against armed elves!"

"Are we going to argue, or are we going to go out and save your daughter?!" Thor barked, frustrated with not only Loki's taunting but with his own failure. He should have foreseen the girl would have vanished. She had always taken things into her own hands if she had the ability, and her knack for discovering things better left alone hadn't disappeared with her memories.

Loki glared at him; "We are _not_ done here." He promised, and walked to the guards. "I want Heimdall to know we're bringing a battalion to the Bifrost. Have him ready to transport them all. And do not cross me, boy – you've no idea what I'm capable of."

Hel felt a hand clasp around her throat. As she screamed in surprise, Garm was subsequently tied at the feet and brought down to his knees, while around them flew a whole army of camouflaged warriors. She could see flashes of green and brown, but no faces.

"Ah, so here's the famous Princess," growled a voice from behind her, hot breath against her ear, "Come to infiltrate, have we?"


	13. Loyal Loving Girl

"She may not look like much, but do you remember the stories of this girl? The legends of her realm? Perhaps it would be best to let her go."

The Vanir looked a lot like normal people – like Midgardians, but with pointed ears and baby blue eyes that seemed to sear through Hel's skin. She felt on show as she stood in the middle of a clearing high up in the trees, surrounded by elves on solid wood platforms, who glared down at her as though she were a vile imp. Without Garm, she was defenceless. All she could do if it came to blows was use her magic, which made her tremble under the elves' great gaze.

"The legends spoke of a great Queen, not this little girl. We all know what happened."

The sneer came from the head elf, or at least what Hel recognised to be the head elf. He stood at a small height – only five foot three, despite towering over her – but his size meant nothing, for underneath that vine-woven armour was the definite bulk of muscle, and even on the plains of Giantland she'd heard stories of his might. A white mane flowed down his broad shoulders as he took her into account, eyes like blue torches, mouth stretched in a hard frown.

But she had come to preach peace, and refused to be intimidated; "Dear Vanir, I come to you not as a child, but as a princess afraid for her realm."

All eyes were bearing down on her again. Hel watched the head elf turn away from his advisor, a much taller woman with wrinkles scoring down her face and a robe made of pure green silk, and yet the girl's mouth continued to work.

"Our lands have been ravaged by war too many times. Frigga came to us as a symbol of unity, to signify the moment we became allies and renounced our hatred, and through marrying my grandfather she also adopted my people. Asgard had never known a lovelier Queen."

"Frigga was one of our most beautiful ladies. You allowed her to die."

Hel remembered small details of Frigga's death; not enough to talk about it at length, but enough to make a point and expand. Exercising her ebbing control, she willed the ethereal tone out of her voice, keeping her magic in her veins as the crown squeezed tighter on her head.

"And yet, even in death she symbolised what it meant to be united. She died to save a Midgardian. She died to save my uncle's Lady Jane – a woman not of blood, not of any relation other than having been born in the same universe. Do you not think Frigga's death shows a standard we must aspire to?"

Around her, the Vanir had begun whispering. She couldn't tell if they were agreeing with her or plotting her death. Hel kept her gaze rooted on the head elf in spite of all that was happening, because if she paid attention to anything else she would break down and weep for her father.

The head elf strode forward in the clearing, until he was standing over her. The princess gulped. He was even more terrifying up close.

He glared down into her big green eyes, so wide and knowing, and yet so clueless at the same time. Did she truly think peace could be achieved? That her grandmother's death – not her grandmother, but he digressed – was just another sacrifice in her stoical life?

"And what does your father think about your being here, hm?" he growled, voice low; "Does he approve of his precious little Hel being in our presence?"

She took a breath, meeting his gaze despite the chill sweeping up her back; "He didn't want to go to war with you either. He may not approve of me coming alone, but if you agree with me I've disobeyed him in good conscience."

"And if, instead, we chain you up and feed you to your own dog?"

Another gulp; "Then you've sentenced an innocent child to death."

"You? An innocent?" the head elf grinned, "And when did you come to that conclusion? Your crimes are more feared than all the wars put together. At least with war, you expect people to die. When it came to you, no one knew if they were dying or being rewarded."

Again, Hel was thrown into a world she had no place in. What was he talking about? What crimes? Did it have something to do with her fragmented memories? The girl wanted so much to press him on what he meant, to delve into that mind and pull out exactly what he was thinking, but that wouldn't help her in saving Asgard. If it was unimportant to the war effort, it would be unimportant to her. For now.

"Do what you must to me, but do not hurt those Frigga died to protect. I can't guarantee that my father won't seek recompense for my death; this is a risk you must take, if you truly believe my blood is worth ending this war."

Loki stormed through the double doors of the throne room, looking for that ignorant King who had let his daughter go. When he saw Odin standing on his high-up platform, he had to supress the urge to fly at him.

"And what is this?!" he shouted, striding towards him with nostrils flared, "My Helly, gone again?!"

"We'd no idea-"

"You imprison me and leave her without supervision? Do you not think? Are you stupid?"

"You would be the first to say Hel's ways are fickle."

"But she's still a little girl! A little girl with a dark history!" the God's eyes could have burnt through steel, "And if I'm not with her, she could find out what happened!"

Hel moved forward as the head elf led her through the maze of his homeland. She had no idea if she was walking to her death or to the end of all war. All she knew was that she was trapped between two lines of Vanir, and she wanted her father.

"You were brave to come here," the head elf admitted when they reached a large hut, wherein the sounds of high-pitched whining could be heard; "If it weren't a time of a war, I would commend you for your efforts. That being said, the only reward I can give you is making sure you're kept safe during the battle. You will stay in here for as long as we are fighting with Asgard. Until Loki has been slain, you will not come out."

Before Hel could protest, something large and heavy smacked into the back of her head, and as she drifted into the world of unconsciousness she could feel her world tilting at an angle.


	14. Darkest Hour

The darkness stretched on.

Hel had been told many times that night in Vanaheim was like death. There was no candlelight to break the gloom, no white face in the black veil; it was just a never-ending, hopeless state of nothingness, which crept up on her as she nuzzled against Garm's flank and tried to ignore the chill.

"Daddy," she muttered under her breath, watching as the words became cold smoke and rose into the still air; "I miss you."

Garm had been the only thing anchoring her down. If it weren't for him, the girl would have been a mess – crying, screaming, howling for her father until her throat bled, and none of it would have brought her any closer to freedom. At least her dog gave her a sense of company. He made her remember that there was always someone standing alongside her, whether they were obvious or not.

"I wish they hadn't chained us. My feet hurt."

She moved her cold feet as if in demonstration, despite the fact Garm was more interested in his own high pitched whining. The sound rang through the night, almost unheard. Where were all the Vanir? Had they run off without telling them? Were the pair doomed to starve to death, or freeze? Thoughts of impending doom ran through Hel's mind as she buried herself further into her dog's side, trying to get some warmth where there was only cold.

And that sparked off a memory. Brief, almost irrelevant, Hel got the image of walking through a frozen wasteland, surrounded by ruins of a proud civilisation. She could see great castles on the hilltops brought to their very foundations. Beyond, where she could make out the lip of the horizon against a dark fringe of clouds, there was a single man standing, watching her as she walked forward. The image was so vivid, she felt like she was plunged into that world once more.

"What…?"

The memory took her away from the world she was in now. Hel willed herself to move forward, to bring the strange silhouetted man closer so she could know who he was, why he was standing there, but all she could do was go a little further before everything went black again. Was it her father? Did something happen in Giantland, and out of love for her he had erased her memory of it?

"Garm," she sighed, "I wish he would just tell me what happened. I will find out. When we escape the Vanir, I will find out exactly what Daddy's hiding from me. I have to. It's…it's a matter of principle."

Thinking about Loki drifted onto thinking about her mother. Where was Angrboda? She had heard from the maids that the woman had been driven mad, taken by someone – they wouldn't tell her who – and forced into slavery. But how could that have happened? Hel had no memory of it. She could only remember watching Loki being beamed into the sky, and from there on it became a haze.

Angrboda had been a fickle mother. She had loved Hel, loved her like a wolf loved its territory, and yet the girl couldn't think of one example where she had had a closeness with her. Perhaps it was her fault. Loki conditioned her to love all it was he stood for, and through that she had come to love him a great deal more than she could ever hope to love Angrboda, brute that she was.

Fenrir. Jorgmundr. Her brothers. She could remember a little about them. Brief visits, one elongated trip to someplace in a forgotten realm; they had been her guardians when Loki was absent, and her partners in crime when he was there. But why now did they stay away? Did they hate her? Had she done something wrong?

Fenrir had always told her that to do wrong by them, she would first have to kill one. She could remember doing nothing of the sort. Perhaps it was one of those fragments she couldn't quite catch? By her hand, had one of her brothers died? Was that the dark secret Loki was hiding from her, or was there more to it than a simple murder?

"I will find out! If I'm responsible for the death of my family, I must be brought to justice!" she said, more to herself than the oaf beside her; "Daddy thinks he can keep all horror from me. Does he seem tired to you, Garm? Is it my fault? He's run himself ragged trying to keep me from what I did. It must be a murder. No matter; I will find out."

A piercing howl echoed through the air. Hel flinched back, scared, when she realised she had stabbed Garm's side with her crown. The girl vaulted away from him as though he had turned into hot metal.

"Sorry, Garm. I'm sorry. I'll…I'll sleep here tonight. Tomorrow, when I can see…tomorrow."

But instead she heard great thuds on the floor and felt a wet nose nuzzling her temple, telling her he forgave her for the accident. At the sign of affection, Hel burst into hot tears. She buried her face in her hands, weeping as the dog curled himself around her again, and despite his comforting presence she could think of nothing except their predicament.

"I should have never come here!" she said; "I've endangered our lives and condemned my father to death – and for what? I haven't ended this war. I haven't even convinced them to hold off their attack. Daddy was right to not believe in me."

As if disagreeing with her, Garm brought his head up against Hel's side and butted her gently. She could almost hear his words in the still, silent air.

"You truly think so?" she asked, unsure if it was just her mind or if Garm was much more intelligent than she first thought.

He nuzzled her again.

"You're right. No matter what's happened, we cannot afford to lose sight of things. I have to find a way out of here."

A moment's pause. Then;

"Wait until the leader comes to check on us. When he does, I will signal what to do next."


	15. The Surrogate Fool

On Midgard, the scene was much different.

A brilliant hot sun bared down on New York and glinted off the tinted glass skyscrapers, scorching the stone spheres that led up to prestigious buildings – newsprint towers, government blocks, enterprises that rose high in the sky and threw shade across the people walking on the concrete streets below. Vanaheim's nature had no merit on Earth. It was beaten down, cultivated into neat, tidy squares called 'parks,' and kept there only to break the oppressive grey of the pavements sprawled throughout the city.

And in the middle of it all, completed with a great sign that read 'AVENGERS,' stood the famous Stark Tower. In recent years it had become the pinnacle of America. It represented technological advancement, the heroism of soldiers, the sacrifices that had to be made to do the right thing and, most of all, the importance of protecting the innocent, who whenever they looked at that great thing could breathe a sigh of relief and go about their days without fear. It was the embodiment of how far they had come, and how far they would go.

The Avengers themselves were no different. It seemed that, soon after Loki's reunion with his daughter, they had little do, no longer anticipating being called to defend their world against him. So their books were filled with meeting people and attending galas, with the occasional battle thrown in against comic-book characters at their toughest. The Avengers had become no more than a proven might that would one day be called for again, but until that day they could entertain themselves with meeting fans and signing autographs.

Something Tony was already an expert at, but he digressed.

On that slow, hot day, it was a typical schedule for him. A video board meeting, working on the designs of new inventions, chatting to Pepper over the phone about how and why the media had found photos of him 'testing' new pulse reactors on rival companies' products; nothing too unordinary.

Until JARVIS interrupted his phone call.

"Sir, I've reason to believe Thor is returning to Earth. He will be on the roof in a few moments."

Tony pressed the receiver a little further down his cheek; "He bringing any surprises for us?"

"He may have his brother with him."

"Pep, I gotta go. Can we arrange this lecture for tomorrow?"

A sigh and a passive aggressive remark later, Tony was on his way to the roof, meeting Steve there who had been notified earlier and took the time to bring his billionaire teammate a coffee.

"Thanks," he said, taking the hot Styrofoam cup from him as strange lights started playing in the distant sky; "What do you think's going on?"

"I have no idea. I just really hope it has nothing to do with magic." Steve responded and sipped the drink. Clouds were beginning to from on the horizon, he noticed. Dark and thick. He wondered for a moment if they were Thor's doing, and then remembered that storms often started when…

No. He wouldn't let his thoughts take him down that path.

"You think something's wrong with our favourite resurrection?"

Steve's voice was low; "I sure hope not."

In a matter of moments, the mesh of colours that was the Bifrost Bridge teleportation beam slammed down on the concrete, and Steve was reminded again just how powerful it was. If only they could harness that energy for Bruce's green experiments – America's carbon footprint would have been cut to near non-existence.

And as it burnt away into the atmosphere, the pair found themselves staring at their dark and blond counterparts; Tony with Loki, and Steve with Thor. No one moved for fear the tension would swallow them up.

But, in his lovable fashion, the great God of Thunder couldn't hold back for long.

"Friends!" he laughed, walking up to them and giving them each a brotherly hug, "It's so good to see you!"

"You too, big guy," Tony said into his shoulder. One of these days, he vowed, he would make boots big enough to bring him to Thor's eye level.

"What's Loki doing here?"

Steve's question brought the billionaire's attention back to the God. He was standing on the roof as though uncomfortable, perhaps remembering the last time he had stood there – the day Hel died – but his green eyes sparked defiance as they stared straight ahead, almost daring them to make a comment. It seemed he hadn't yet forgiven them for allowing his daughter the Aether. Kinder to the Captain, at least, but that only extended to not being disgusted in looking at him.

"We've encountered a problem." Thor admitted; "My niece-"

"Hel ran off."

All eyes turned to Loki, and despite the coil of anger in his stomach he realised these men were his only hope.

"What?" Steve asked. The God stepped closer, eyes flickering with barely supressed rage, and repeated himself in a slow, deliberate tone.

"Hel. Ran. Off. She's escaped."

Steve's stomach dropped; "Where?" he asked as his hand tightened around his coffee cup. It split easily in his hand, pouring the scalding drink over his skin until it turned a faint pink, but his mind was too preoccupied with Hel to care or even realise.

"She came to me before she left. Had some silly idea in her head that she would end this war before it begun. Odin drove my girl to something drastic, and now I fear she's paying the price for his idiocy."

"Where did she go?!" the Captain repeated.

Loki squared up to him as he would a rival – in some ways, Steve was. When Hel had hated him, Steve had been his replacement. A small part of Loki feared that, were the girl to remember her past, she would hate him and go to Steve all over again.

"Vanaheim."

"Where's that?" Steve turned to Tony; "Assemble the Avengers. I want them in the conference room ASAP."

And when he looked at the hard glare in Steve's eye, Tony swore he saw the word 'murder.'


	16. Plans and Hel

The Avengers, pulled from their usual routines, sat slouched and bolt upright in the conference room, watching as Loki paced from one end of the room to the other. Clint's eyes never left him; he lived up to his namesake and never let the man out of his sight, not even to sip at the Styrofoam cup placed in front of him.

"When Odin had me imprisoned, we should have all suspected Hel would come and find me." The God was ranting; "She's clever – more so than those Asgardian idiots would believe. And now she's off in Vanaheim putting herself in danger, all in the name of a man we're not related to."

Thor, having heard the speech a dozen times, was writing down notes on Vanaheim's world at the bar. The marble top was the only place he could properly jot down coordinates, write tips and remind himself of the people there, and since his teammates were so absorbed in their still-enemy he found he was very much left alone.

Vanaheim had grown much different from when he last saw it. As Hel peeked her little face out the window, she could see beautiful vines entangled above and beside the Vanir's strange little home, the birds that bobbed along on it like blue apples in green water. The guard that was standing there – some white haired thing with a fierce scowl – watched as red and gold parrots flew out of the trees and disappeared back into the jungle, their presence only made apparent through the rustle of leaves and the quick flash of colour.

"A little higher, Garm," she whispered, standing on the very tip of the dog's wet snout, "I can't see."

With a scarcely audible growl, Garm pushed his nose up. Hel was brought to the top of the window's ledge, where if anyone was watching they would have seen her crown, but as it was they were left like common prisoners; alone, with only one guard to make sure they weren't too noisy.

"Good boy. Now, give me a moment."

Hel's eyes glowed a brilliant green as she reached her small hand forward. A stream of purple wound through the air, approaching the guard without so much as a whisper, yet instead of wrapping itself around him it dipped towards his belt. The keys jangling on the leather loop became encased with light. In a matter of moments, they were unhooking themselves and floating back towards the prisoners, where Hel was grinning like a madman.

But when she caught hold of the keys and was set back on the floor, she looked at her dog with a strange sort of confusion – one mixed with relief, but no less apparent; "That shouldn't have been as easy as it was."

"What do you suggest we do, then?" Bruce asked when Loki had finished his monologue. The God seemed too wrapped up in his anger to have made a clear, concise plan, so when he simply glared at him Bruce wasn't surprised.

"The plan is," Steve cut in, as though he had been waiting for the opportunity to make himself heard; "We go to Vanaheim, meet with their leader and find a way to work this issue out peacefully, without hurting Hel or causing a war."

"They won't give Hel back without payment, Captain. It's a world without care for technology or gold."

Thor's sudden voice made everyone remember he was still in the room. In surprise they turned to him, watching him get up from the bar and click the lid back onto his pen.

"Well then, we'll just have to fight for her." Steve responded, venom in his words.

"The Vanir will use their knowledge of Vanaheim to their advantage. To fight them on their own ground is a waste of time," Loki shook his head to clear away the lingering thoughts of anger, so he could focus on the plan that held his daughter's freedom, "What we need to do is draw them out. If they're not watching Hel, one of us can go in and retrieve her."

Bruce, however, knew the ridiculousness of trying to draw an entire population away from their home. He had seen it happen before – during King's speeches when love for the monarchy was compulsory – but usually, there were one or two stragglers left to guard the place, if not more.

"We should go with Steve's first plan. At least if we go to them, we can get a feel of what the territory's like; might be able to make some decent, solid plans if we know where everything is."

"The Vanir are too clever for that," Thor sighed; "They will know if we're only there to map out their grounds. From what I gathered as a boy, their homes aren't too permanent. They can easily move them if they think they are no longer safe."

"Then we do the simple, quick thing," Tony announced; "We either go the long way and come back with nothing, or we go in with guns blazing and 'formally request' they give back Hel."

Steve couldn't think straight with all the suggestions being thrown at him. He knew his team would want a peaceful route, but at the same time he had a feeling that wouldn't work. If they in anyway endangered Hel's life…

"Instead of confusing the poor Captain," Loki hissed with contempt, as though he could read his mind, "Why not just decide whether Hel's owed freedom? No matter what we choose, the Vanir will block our path. We cannot focus on what they want for their own land when they have taken my daughter hostage."

"Loki-"

"If we stand here bickering like children, we lose time which could be spent on saving Hel's life. I don't care if the Vanir burn with Vanaheim. I don't care if we leave them without so much as a forest to house themselves. When they took my Helly, they lost all sense of personhood to me."

The God stalked forward, eyes angry as he glared out of the window. The concrete jungle of Earth always made him feel sick to his stomach.

"We either kill them all or find a way not to," he announced, "but we save my daughter."


	17. Eyes Peeled, Backs Turned

The first thing that roused the Vanir was an ominous boom.

The next was screaming.

By the time they had reached Hel's prison room, they found her guard quite incapacitated – hanging by the leg in the trees, with his hands frozen solid.

"How did this happen?" the head elf barked. Through snippets of conversation, Hel had learned his name was Aric, and that his temper was ignited by such innocent acts as singing and dancing on duty.

The white haired elf almost whimpered in reply; "I never even saw her, sire. I thought she…she was locked up!"

"Where did she go?" the advisor asked, fair-tempered Lady Alfrun, who with her wrinkles and wisdom could make even the most terrifying situation seem like a baby's nightmare.

"I don't know. One minute I was walking along the bridge; the next, I found myself here. Can you help me down?"

Aric waved a hand at the two guards standing behind him, young men in vine-woven armour. The greenery helped to cover the fact that what laid underneath was solid steel, made them look more fearsome, though it was an old, not well kept secret.

But as they were beginning to untie him from the vines, the elf screamed. He had caught sight of something – a figure emerging from the branches, like an angry spirit come to claim the forest back.

In a matter of moments, the small platoon found themselves surrounded by purple magic. Aric turned with a snarl on his face, contorting his young appearance until he looked like a demon, and pointed at his escapee as though he still had the upper hand.

"What are you doing out of your chains?" he growled. Hel had to supress the shudder that crept up her spine.

Instead, she circled them, reminding the much older elves that she – the small, unsuspecting princess – had fooled them all, and now it was her turn to weigh up the options. Would she revert back to pre-resurrection Hel and kill them? Would she show mercy and let them go? The question hung in the air like a choking fog, yet no one let the fear show on their face.

"I came to your land as a representative of peace," her voice was dangerous, slow and harsh, "I thought if I showed you bravery and kindness, you would reciprocate by not trying to destroy my home."

"This is a time of war, child," Alfrun reminded her softly, "We showed you mercy by keeping you safe."

"Safe? You took me prisoner! Don't treat me like an idiot child; I know a ransom tool when I see one."

"You think we would hurt an innocent?"

"Perhaps not – not at first. But then greed takes over, your lust for power, and instead of seeing an innocent you see only your own progress! I would become no more to you than these vines are to me. You would have me killed if you thought it would give you dominance."

Alfrun looked at the girl before her, who a few days ago she had listened to the stories of and tried to comprehend. Did she truly have no memory of those three hundred and eighty five years? Did she believe herself still to be Aesir, or did she know her real heritage? The woman's head span with questions, and yet all she could do was stare like a dumb animal at Hel, who now had taken up a spot at the helm of the group and was looking at them with intent.

Aric sneered at her; "Are you going to kill us, then?"

She shook her head. As she did it, her eyes never left them.

"No. No; I refuse to be a part of the bloodshed."

"Ha! I would believe that, if you weren't so rooted in it already…"

Green eyes locked onto the head elf, questioning, more like dark emeralds than anything else. They held in them a brilliance only Loki truly knew.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Your past, dear Princess. A past bathed in blood and hatred. Ice, demons; you understand." Aric's chuckle chilled her very blood.

"Tell me!" she stormed forward, stopping just shy of the purple barrier; "You will tell me what happened!"

"Why? Loki's little daughter should find it out for herself," he laughed, "With him being so clever, does that not extend to you? Are you really his daughter, Hel? After all, Angrboda was known for her Forest wandering…perhaps your true father hails from Svartalfheim…"

A bolt of pain tore through Aric's body, so intense that it brought him to his knees. The shock of it encouraged him to howl. Somewhere below the bridge, an ominous growl responded, alerting them all that Garm lurked not too far away.

"What…was that…?"

"A warning, elf. My father is Loki of Jotunheim. Perhaps I'm not of Asgard, and perhaps my grandfather has lost his way, but you will not claim me a Dark Elf and disrespect my mother – you will listen to me, or you will regret it."

As Aric dared to raise his head, shame burning the tips of his ears, he could see that Hel's eyes were glowing amethyst. She looked exactly like the description he'd received of her years ago, when he was a boy hopping around with a wooden sword, learning of the creatures that resided in the furthest stretches of the universe. The thought chilled him.

But still he was defiant.

"Loki's failed you," he laughed, "Here you are, all alone, without so much as a guard to keep you safe."

Hel's eyes flickered, dying back to her sombre green as she took in all of the prisoners. The tables had turned. She was on top. And it ignited within her another fragment – not so much a memory as a familiar feeling, one of power, which was both comforting and confusing.

But what would she do? She had the choice. She could kill the people who had trapped her, make an example of them and leave Vanaheim with a painful warning about attacking Asgard, but she could also let them live. If she showed them mercy, perhaps they would do the same. Or at least fear would make them reluctant to go ahead with their plans.

As she heard the bark of Garm below, Hel made her decision – and she stuck to it.


	18. Cunning Jotun

When they reached Vanaheim, the Avengers were shocked.

First by the trees, which grew so tall they formed a thick roof and allowed no sunlight to penetrate. Then they found themselves marvelling the wooden city the elves had made, with the vines hanging low like green ropes and twine woven in the weak cracks, construction so precise that it would have put the most famous architect to shame. Steve admired the hard lines and soft colours, all so natural, one with the world around them rather than dominating it.

"It's beautiful," he commented after an age of silence. His team stood in a semi-circle behind him, spell-bound, before Loki surged forward and began to walk towards the wooden clearing.

"No time to delay," he called; "If we're to get my girl back, we must hurry!"

He left them no choice but to scrabble after him.

The clearing was empty. Not a single soul wandered through it, no children with handcrafted toys or adults with shopping baskets, no leader standing with his head held high. It made Loki feel as though they had come to the wrong place. Where were all the Vanir? Had they absconded with his precious daughter? The thought entered his head for a second before he pushed it away again, desperately glancing around to see if he could catch any sign of her whereabouts.

"Where is everyone?" Tony broke the silence, which had hung in the air like a choking cloud. His gold and red armour glinted in the occasional glimpse of sunlight, brought on by the wind rustling the branches, and almost blinded his teammates when it caught their eyes.

"I…I don't-"

A howl had them on their toes, but too late. In an instant they were surrounded by a herd of Vanir, sharpened spears pointed at their throats as the elves hopped around on the tips of their feet, all of which made Loki want to sneer if they had turned into rabbits. Vine-woven armour had been torn slightly to reveal the steel underneath. The Vanir's eyes were scared as they glanced at Thor and Loki, though they wouldn't give up their home without a fight.

Aric appeared from the throng. His armour was still intact but looked scuffed, the vines torn off, and his pointed ears were frozen at the tips. His fingers moved without any rhythm, as though they had been cold for too long and he was trying to warm himself up.

"What are you doing here?" he growled, voice with no real bite to it.

Loki lunged forward despite the spear at his throat; "Where is my daughter, Vanir?"

"Little Princess Hel? Why, we haven't seen her," Aric laughed; "Perhaps you should keep a better eye on your kin, Jotun!"

Thor could swear he saw a change in Loki's manner – something more dangerous than when he had attacked Midgard. It was a fusion of anger and mirth, colliding together in near peace as the God mashed his lips together and attempted to regain composure.

"Perhaps you think me stupid or below this 'little world' you've crafted here," he gestured towards the masterpiece around them, "But if you keep me from my Helly much longer, I can assure you no one will suffer more than your own people!"

Another voice joined the conversation; a soft, motherly one that came out from the trees, moments before a kind looking woman with wrinkles scoring down her face appeared. She was the epitome of what it meant to be caring. Her eyes carried in them wisdom, a sort of aged acceptance of what must come, and a regret long rooted in something that happened long ago.

"Please, no more violence," she implored, "I'll tell you everything, but please leave my people be."

She reminded him of Frigga so much that Loki relented, looking at her with soft if cold eyes; "Where is my daughter?"

"Gone." Shoulders tensed. "She escaped."

"How could this happen?" Thor asked. His brother had conflicting thoughts; pride for his daughter's cunning escape, and anger that he was no closer to getting her back.

Alfrun moved towards Aric, who had been glaring at her since she appeared from the trees. He knew that they had to give the information away, knew even that they had lost all sense of power when Loki appeared in their midst, but to see one of his most trusted advisors giving away their secrets sent a coil of rage through his stomach.

"We believed her to be safe, locked in one of our prisons."

Loki was held back by Thor's great arm; "You disrespectful worms-!"

"She was well looked after – fed, allowed supervised walks, given toys to play with her dog. But she wanted her freedom. When our backs were turned, she saw her opportunity."

With Loki kept back by Thor, Alfrun felt no fear in continuing. What she could feel, however, were the God's eyes boring into the back of her head, his anger seeping out through the air as his heavy breathing made everything seem quiet.

"She hung our guard upside down in the vines and froze his hands, but stayed to shame us – remind us that she had come as a representative of peace, and that we showed our greed when we took her hostage. Then Aric claimed her real father to be a Dark Elf."

"What?" Loki's head whipped round to the elf, charging forward until Thor had to hold him back with both arms; "You did what? You claimed her to be a Dark Elf? I'll kill you!"

"Peace, she didn't believe it. She cast an enchantment on him that kept him in pain for three hours after. By the time she left, we were all unconscious."

"Did she say where she was going?" Thor asked, still keeping a tight hold on his brother.

"Only that she would seek out her memories herself. Why does she not remember who she was, Loki?" her eyes softened; "Aric taunted her with it. She had no idea what he was talking about."

"You pitiful little worm – I'll have you killed for this," Loki turned to Alfrun; "Her resurrection wiped her memories. She is as innocent as the day she was born. And you people…you people took her hostage."

"Where would she go if she was seeking her memories?"

Loki squeezed his eyes shut. If she had her crown, she had the ability to teleport anywhere. Where would she go?

In an instant his eyes snapped back open, and together with Thor he said; "Giantland."


	19. Cinder Dreams

Loki was looking through old pictures as they approached Giantland. Uninhabited now, Heimdall had to summon a lot of strength to send them there, not to mention scour the land for anything that might have attacked them on sight. The God could only imagine what creatures rested in that world. Left to wander free without Angrboda's hunters, they were the dominant species as soon as his daughter left – perhaps even in her final years there.

"This," he said to Thor, pulling out an old painted picture of Hel in her crib, "I painted this myself. There was a storm outside, I remember, and she had looked the perfect model to practice with."

"It's beautiful," his brother said. It was, too; he could see the affection in every stroke, how gentle they were around Hel's curious eyes, and even after all those years since it was painted the love still rang clear.

"It was the best I could do. It does no justice, but every time Hel sees it she smiles at me." His lips twitched, eyes sad, before adding as an afterthought; "She hardly cried as a baby, you know."

"You've told me."

"I thought it so strange. Fenrir and Jorgmundr howled all day and night, but Hel? Not so much as a sound until she was hungry. I found myself checking her every hour or so to make sure she was still breathing."

"She was a very good baby," Thor smiled, "I remember how she used to stare up at Mother, as though she knew something more."

The truth in those words struck Loki. His daughter had always been somewhat inquisitive into the world, into herself, but never had he thought that perhaps she did know something; something that was on the very tip of her tongue, but never close enough to be dragged out.

"Perhaps. I only hope we find her before she discovers what happened. She's my little girl, Thor," Loki sighed, "I can't have her hating me again."

Far off in the distance, where Heimdall could see, Hel was wandering the thick forests of Giantland, listening out for the familiar calls of birds she'd only ever seen glimpses of. There was something…cold, about that place. Something that crept up her spine and wriggled deep into her brain. What happened there?

"Garm," she called to the dog, who was sniffing around at the oak's bases to search for danger, "Stay close to me, will you? I don't know what to expect here."

A happy bark responded, and received a harsh glare. Garm quieted; instead of making any more noise, he tried to navigate his large hide through the trees, as though one brush of his fur against their bark would set the whole place on fire.

"Something terrible happened here." Hel said as she touched one of the trees.

It sent a huge wave of terror through her and thrust her into another fragmented memory – one that was more horrifying and intense than any she had had so far.

Standing over a mound of upturned soil, Hel could see a bloody rock placed at the head. Somewhere behind her she was aware of people – giants, perhaps? – but she couldn't turn, couldn't speak despite her want to. A small twig burned black was thrust underneath the rock and anchored to dangle over the mound, with a tiny bell tied by red string on the tip of it. It was then that she realised she was looking at a makeshift grave.

But whose?

Garm nuzzled into the crook of her neck as Hel allowed her fingers to wander the bark, like it could tell her what happened. There were secrets locked in these ancient things. Where the moss grew, so did terror. Where the animals hid, so did fear.

"I remember…" she began, furrowing her brow and squeezing her eyes shut, "A grave. Someone's grave was here. Will it still be here? Was it Mother? Is that why Daddy never wanted me to find her?" Hel shook her head. "No; he would have told me if she died. We would mourn together – I, I know it."

Tony came out of the nozzle and approached the brothers, who for a long time now had divulged into memories of Hel's infancy. Thor even managed to coax a smile out of the God from time to time. But when the billionaire came closer they both fell silent, looking over their shoulders at him with an unspoken question in their eyes.

"Heimdall's got the thing charged up," he said, gesturing to the Bifrost nozzle; "Operation Save the Damsel in Distress is a go."

"I suppose we will have to reminisce more when we have her at our side," Thor said. He clapped his hand on Loki's shoulder as though to further his point, or to offer him the comfort he knew the God needed. "Perhaps she can give us some insight into how we were, too."

"I don't doubt it. How she watched us when she was a baby – I would be more surprised if she had nothing to say."

Hel wandered the trees. She remembered them being smaller. Cinders, she thought. The attack from Muspelheim must have left them as cinders. But why then were they so tall? How much time had passed since she had been there?

Enough for her to become a queen and dog owner, apparently.

"What is the era?" she asked, more herself than Garm, "Where are the stars? I can map out where they were when I lived with both my parents – I remember the biggest one, blaring near our three moons. If that's gone out, perhaps many more years have passed than I first thought…"

She looked down at herself. Her body hadn't grown enough for that time to have gone. She would have been at least two foot, but still she only stood up to her father's shins.

"I'm being foolish," she decided, "These memories are nothing. An effect of my magic. I only hope it will wear off soon…"


	20. Forest Walk

Hel's wanderings inevitably took her to her old village, where pieces of the marketplace now laid in sad piles and wildlife bounced from every crevice. Greenery sprouted through the cracks to drink in what little sunlight it could get, for a dark depression hung over the land in the form of clouds, bleaching all colour while thunder rolled down from distant hills.

A storm.

"Hard to think I used to live here," she muttered to Garm as she picked her way through the rubble, "There was so much life in this marketplace. This is where Daddy bought me my first charm; where the old woman sold things by the road. And I had my first enchantment lesson here, when we used to put spells on the chickens so they would lay eggs. That seems so long ago now…"

Garm listened in between nosing rocks over, checking underneath them for anything that resembled food. He ate whatever rodents he could find, though not to his pleasure.

"Daddy used to say there's beauty in everything – even ugliness."

Garm gave a small gurgle in reply. Blood dripped from his canines as he ambled behind his mistress.

"I can't see any beauty here, Garm. Perhaps if we look deeper?"

That spurred a bout of searching that lasted near on two hours. Hel dug through the ashes of her manor, now no more than a hiding place for poisonous snakes, ignoring the cuts to her hand as she tried to find something, anything that would give her an insight into her memories. Even if they only told her they were an effect of her magic.

All the while she was looking through the mess, she failed to notice the beam of light that tore down from the sky and into the Forest behind her. Garm whimpered at it but was shushed. For Hel, nothing was more important than uncovering the truth her father had been keeping from her, since she had already failed in her plot to stop the war.

Loki exhaled deeply when he saw the Forest around him. So many memories flooded through his mind; the building of his manor, his arrival there, his decision to stay and marry Angrboda, the birth of his children and, finally, his departure, which had been a turning point in his life that he would have never anticipated.

The clearing he stood in with his enemies was the very place he had left on that fateful day. He could remember the anxiety gnawing at his stomach for the coming war, the guilt for leaving Hel without saying goodbye. Had he known the events to come, he would have acted differently, said all those things he thought were unimportant at the time.

But no. Time had more or less turned back for them, and he was determined not to let another opportunity slip through his fingers.

"She's here," he said, pressing forward into the thick cluster of oaks.

"How do you know?" Steve asked. Cool shade was cast down from the canopy, but felt somehow unnatural on his uniform; as though it were keeping them from something, or hiding them from something else.

The God dodged a low-hanging branch with ease, but almost smiled when he heard a pained groan behind him. Tony Stark – apparently the suit didn't give him the gift of a good attention span.

"I feel it. I know it."

"If she's here, where would she be?"

"The old village." Thor turned to look at his brother, coaxing him to explain to the Avengers the significance of that place; "It was attacked during the war; arguably, it's the place where Hel began her descent into madness."

"What happened afterwards?" Natasha asked, because it was her business to know things.

"She and the other survivors took to the Forest. As far as I can tell, they all died. The Giant-lings murdered one of them through Hel's orders, but I'm not sure how soon after the attack this was."

"Sounds horrible," Bruce muttered. He had seen his fair share of horror – had been responsible for a lot of it. But to hear another example happening galaxies away from Earth, a child so torn about what had happened to her village that she was forced to murder and live in a Forest? The thought sent small veins of green flowering through his body, though Hulk stayed at the very rim of his conscious.

Hel pushed back a large slab of stone to reveal something she had long forgotten. It was a big wooden letter H; she remembered it to have hung on her door when the manor stood upright, with two others that spelt her name. As her fingers brushed against the sleek wood, a memory was ignited.

It was clearer than all of the other memories in her mind, because it had happened before the war. She was sitting in the living room of her home, surrounded by thick tomes and beautiful, tall bookcases, all the while her father occasionally poked at the fire and read something on his favourite chair. His eyes darted back and forth between the pages and her, checking that she was still in one place, before he dove back into whatever world he was being drawn into.

Hel hadn't spoken by that point. She remembered it to be of great frustration to her father, but nevertheless he loved her for her silence. As she watched him flicking through his book, she was reminded of the people's quiet awe for him, their obedience, and found herself wondering if she too would command that sort of respect.

"I love you, Helly." He said, disturbing the quiet air as he fixed her with a smile.

And how she wished she could say it back. She wished she could go to that place again and change herself, make her talk, but instead she could only pick up the book beside her and begin reading, as though in silent acceptance of her father's love.

Garm's barking brought her out of her reverie. Hel span around to be faced with Loki, standing at the edge of the Forest with people behind him – she recognised Thor, and remembered the blond man beside him to be the one who tried to take her away, but the rest were alien to her.

"Hel!" Loki cried out, relieved; "Come here this instant, young lady!"

The dog lunged forward in front of her in instant defence. Loki's tone was angry, but Hel could hear the joy in it. She stroked Garm's fur as a way of calming him, before turning her head back to her father and blinking as though in a trance.

"What happened here?" she asked, her voice echoing over the uninhabited world. She watched as the men and woman moved forward, step by step, slowly as though she was a raving beast in the middle of a zoo.

"That's not important, Hel. We have gone all over the universe looking for you, and now you're coming back home!"

"Why won't you tell me?!" Hel's frustration poured over her scream – like a fountain, purple energy began to erupt from her, her back arching as she fixed the group with a cold stare and reached out to touch her dog's fur. "What did I do? Did I kill Mother? Am I responsible for this?!"

Loki was closer to her by this point, and could see the fear and hurt in her eyes as clearly as if they were his own. His tone softened.

"No Helly, of course not. You're not responsible for any of this. But you must come home now – it's not safe to be out by yourself."

The Queen glanced back at her father and Garm. The crown on her head felt tight all of a sudden, like it was pressing her to make a decision, and perhaps not in her right mind she gave him a fierce glare.

"If you refuse to tell me, I will have to find out for myself!"

And before anyone could stop them, the emerald began to glow, and the pair disappeared from sight.


	21. Teleportation

The teleportation spell was never meant to send them to a specific place. Hel had hoped to land somewhere she had at least a faint idea about; perhaps a place her father had spoken of when they still lived in Giantland, just to make sure she was able to navigate her way around.

But Jotunheim?

When they touched down in the great ice realm, it felt almost surreal. The girl looked about at the world that could have been her home had Loki never been taken to Asgard – a huge no man's land, with blue mountains towering on one side and an oppressive castle up ahead, made entirely of ice.

"Brilliant," she sighed to Garm, pressing against his flank as the cold began to seep through her coat; "I thought we would go somewhere less…hostile. This crown is doing me no favours."

His bark echoed through the still air like a horn blaring for rescue. It made them both pause, hoping with all their might that no one would come and imprison them again, but it seemed that Jotunheim was very much a dead land.

Hel commented on the lack of activity as she and Garm picked their way down the road, itself glittering with a thin sheet of ice and marked off by snowy embankments; "Is Jotunheim abandoned, pup?"

Loki stared at the spot his daughter was just standing on, his face blank but his eyes enraged. He wanted to turn to Thor and berate him for not keeping an eye on her. He wanted to turn to the Avengers and gesture to his crumbled mansion, show them his tragic roots to prove he and his daughter had only been products of their environment, but his mind was empty. All he truly wanted, far in the back of his mind, was to have Hel returned to him.

"What shall we do now?" Natasha asked, since no one had so much as moved since the girl vanished. If she was roaming through the universe looking for an infant, she at least wanted to know their plan. Everything needed to be heading in a general direction, whether it was clear one or not.

The team was silent. In the distance they could hear birdsong, the trill of some other worldly beast, and it sent shivers down their spine to remember this place was not of Earth. Thunder rumbled over head as the clouds grew thicker, mourning for Hel's loss just as much as they were, aching to tend to the Forest she had left behind.

Loki's voice broke the silence, but it was small, almost comically so; "Did you see her eyes, brother?"

"No," Thor looked at him; "What of them?"

"They changed. They were amethyst. Just as when she hated me and thought us all her enemies."

Reality struck them. Steve, being the one whose brain hadn't stopped since the girl vanished, put two and two together, and an imperceptible shudder ran up his spine when he realised just what it meant.

Hel's mind may have been giving her only fragments of the past, but she was going after them with that hot-blooded determination. It was what separated her from other people her age. She never gave up when she put her mind to something, and if she did it was because the task became either impossible or she lacked the means to carry on. Neither of those boxes had been checked yet. It was up to the Avengers to catch her before she became aware of what she was, who she was, and what she had done.

But now they had no idea where she was. Not even the faintest clue.

"I want her found," Loki said, given a sudden burst of energy as the initial shock wore off; "I want Hel found and brought back to Asgard."

"We will have to consult Heimdall and ask him to look for her."

"If her crown permits it," the God turned his back on the crumbled manor. It housed nothing now except memories of what had been, and what could never be again.

"What do you mean?" Tony asked as the Avengers turned with him, the irony of the situation not escaping him, "I thought he could see everything – he even tried to explain it with all that magical mumbo-jumbo."

They moved across the field, which under the storm seemed to have dulled, and Loki's voice was almost drowned by the thunder clapping overhead; "Hel's crown can stop Heimdall's magic if she feels he's spying on her. It's been said it has a mind of its own, and if that's the case then I doubt she will have any control over what it does now. She's not bitter and twisted by the past anymore. If that crown wishes her to discover what she was, she will. It's our duty now to stop her."

He spared an irritated glance at Thor.

"We would never have had to do this if you had only kept your eye on her."

"Loki-"

"When Odin imprisoned me, I thought she would at least be safe. How very wrong I was."

"You can't blame Thor for Hel getting out," Steve argued, pushing on until he was walking at Loki's side; "She's a strong-minded girl, and she knows what she's doing. If she came to you, that obviously means she thought about it first."

The God fell silent. Thor knew that either meant he was considering Steve's words, or he was close to erupting and launching an attack.

"And she's hardly alone – she's got that dog with her. If anything happens and the crown isn't enough, the dog won't let her get hurt. Did you see the way it covered her when we were walking up? And it must know she's your daughter."

"Perhaps."

"She'll be alright safety-wise. What we've got to concentrate on now is whether or not she'll find anything that will help her remember. Do you know anyone who has that kind of stuff?"

Loki thought for a heartbeat. He could remember an old artefact when he was a boy, rumoured to have brought people back from Helheim's Forest – it was a long shot but, if Hel got her hands on it, the crown could have tried to manipulate its magic to show memories long dead.

"If we cannot find where Hel is, we will have to go to Taneleer. He's the only one I know of who could provide her with a means of revealing what happened."


	22. Outsmart the Preserved

It was the first corpse Hel came across the startled her. The second made her wonder what could have happened there.

The Frost Giants were much larger than she was – at least twenty times, if not more – but each of them had been felled by some unknown force, something she couldn't even comprehend, and had been left there as the rest of their kind ran off. Preserved by the intense cold, they were eerie reminders of what this land once held, what had nestled itself amongst the snow and gave it new life.

"I thought the Jotuns were adapted to their climate? Did the cold kill them off?" she asked Garm, who even if he had the ability to speak wouldn't know. Her mind glimpsed back to a time when Loki told her how old the Jotuns were, how their civilisation was old enough to rival Asgard, and dismissed the idea that the cold had killed them. They had lived in it far too long.

"Why does death seem to follow me?"

The land itself was as inhospitable as the stories told. Great expanses of soil had been hardened by a perpetual winter, and so no flowers grew. Houses, or what she assumed to be houses were smashed pieces in the snow, built up over the years, with no footprints leading away to indicate survivors. The mountains were an oppressive, almost terrifying presence in the distance. They loomed like warriors who had seen something terrible. Indeed, it felt they were whispering secrets to the little girl, who with her giant dog felt like the only living things to have laid eyes on the ruins.

"Funny how little Daddy's spoken of this," she said in a small voice, tiptoeing along as the road became less and less visible; "Here's the land we hail from, and yet he says nothing for its demise. He tells me all beauty here is too deeply hidden. No. It's dead."

Garm whimpered and nosed at her head. The cold metal of the crown was colder in Jotunheim. Perhaps it was the climate, or did it know when Hel had returned to her roots? Was that why it was more powerful in Helheim? Questions circulated that crown which only Hel knew the answers to, but this Hel – the innocent one – could never tell them.

"Come on. We have to carry on."

Garm looked at her, asking where without so much as whimpering. His fur rustled in the breeze that drifted from the horizon, bitter with cold.

"I have to see if my true grandparents are here. I'll know them when I see them."

His incredulous look had her turning on her heels with a laugh.

"Perhaps they will turn me away or recoil at the sight of me, but why? I'm not a monster, Garm. They have nothing to fear from a little girl."

They travelled for what seemed like hours over that world, but no grandparents did they find. Hel came to believe that nothing lived there except memories. In her mind's eye she could see five foot toddlers rushing over the fields, watched them leap up towards the charcoal black sky as that sly wind touched their skin and turned them an even more beautiful shade of blue, yet that image was very different from the one she was seeing. All that remained of their past – of her and her father's heritage – was a dead land filled with whispering winds.

"No matter," she lied, mostly to herself; "We must find a way out of here."

Garm felt that his mistress was more hurt than she let on. The way her eyes roamed sadly over the wasteland had his belly twisting in knots, begging to help her, but what could he do? He was no more than a lumbering four-legged oaf. All he could do for Hel was be there, and that seemed to be enough.

"I can…feel something…" Hel staggered backwards, caught only by her dog's huge nose and worrying snout. The emerald in her crown glowed brighter as the band tightened around her head, squeezing it until her brain felt like it was being crushed.

On Asgard, Heimdall was trying to see her. The squalid land of Jotunheim came to his mind, but he couldn't pinpoint her exact location amongst all the snow. A familiar wall was in the way. A wall of pure energy, latticed through different bonds of magic, each one glowing a bright purple and burning with a hatred he could scarcely describe. He wanted to flinch away. His resolve threatened to break as his mind continued reaching, trying to knock through so he could find the innocent little girl beyond.

Hel, however much she was unaware, was fighting against him. With one great bat of an unseen whip, Heimdall's mind was thrown back, and following his tumble back into reality he could hear a familiar ethereal shout;

"AWAY."

His eyes snapped back open. Before him stood the league of little mortals, otherwise known as the Avengers, all of which had their eyes on him like a hawk on its prey.

"Well?" Loki said, voice impatient; "Where is she?"

He lowered the great sword down into the ground, where it slotted into the Bifrost's mechanism and stayed upright.

"Jotunheim, but I do not know exactly where."

"What do you mean?" Thor asked as his brother glared. For Heimdall not to know where Hel stood was a very bad thing indeed.

"I felt the crown's magic before I could feel her, and when I reached out to her it batted me away. I fear I won't know where she is unless she takes it from her head."

"She won't do that. The crown has too much power. I knew – I knew I should have destroyed it!" Loki ranted, pacing the golden ball as he wrung his hands together; "We kept the Hall standing, we left the demons alive, we locked the crown away; we should have seen it would come to this!" he turned his heel at the end of the ball, only to stalk to the other side like a father waiting for news on his child's illness.

Was that not what this was? Loki felt as though the crown was making his daughter wretched, bringing back that ancient curse that was her past. It was gone now – obliterated, and if the crown thought it could best them by taking his girl back it was sorely mistaken.

"Well then," Steve growled; "We go to Jotunheim."

Loki shook his head; "No. If we go there, she would have already left. We must be three steps ahead to catch her."

"And where do you propose we go, then?"

He thought for a moment. The air was filled with tension as he glanced all over the place, squeezing his eyes shut, and finally looking at them.

"Taneleer."

Thor gave him a confused glance.

"If it's true he has something that can bring back the dead, I don't want my girl to hold it. I want it as close to us as possible; if it's the only way she can find her memories, the crown will make her come for it."

The pieces came together so well that Bruce found himself mumbling the rest in shock; "And she would walk right to us."

Loki turned to him, eyebrows raised, and smiled.

"Precisely."


	23. Past Little Failures

Steve could remember when Hel had stayed with them. The Tower had fallen into a dark depression, almost as if the air had thickened and grown more gloomy, but not in a way that was immediately noticeable. Bruce came to him after she was reunited with her father, commenting the atmosphere was lighter, and without saying it outright told Steve that Hel's absence was the reason why.

It reminded him of when he was that walking piece of propaganda; a fresh faced young super soldier eager to make his name. There was a rally he was forced to dance around in for the masses, one that boosted morale and raised spirits for those at home, and despite the lights and colours flashing everywhere his eye had been drawn to one small person in the crowd.

A little girl, wearing a mundane button up coat and plain hat. She had a sharp white face dirtied with soot – just a trace across her cheek – and raven black hair, but it was short for someone her age, cut off just above the shoulders. Her unimpressed face made his eyes snap to her during one of the routines. Her little gloved hand was clasped in that of a weary looking woman's, who at one time would have been beautiful, but by that point had diminished into no more than a whispered housewife.

He smiled at her and waved. Her eyes never left his face. To this day he'd no idea what colour they were, only that they were piercing and seemed to speak of an older wisdom. The horrors of what she had seen festered there. To be working class in the midst of the war, a girl in the 1940's; life had piled the odds against her.

But even after the routine, when the people were cheering and the girls were pouring off the stage to their dressing rooms, Steve found his eyes wander to her again. This time, those sharp, light pink lips moved.

"Nu-rem-burg."

He stuttered through the pre-planned speech, never taking his eyes off that little girl. No one seemed to notice. They were too caught up in the patriotic hype.

"Nu-rem-burg."

What happened next was a flurry of sights and sounds. Steve vaguely recalled getting off the stage and changing into something less noticeable, but the next memory had him walking the dark streets of Brooklyn with his hands shoved deep in his trench coat pockets. The moon shone down at him like a guiding light. Platinum-plated stars sparkled at him as though they were seconds away from exploding. All was peaceful on the roads, void of life, void of even beggars, as every sane man was snatched up and sent to war.

That was when he saw the little girl again.

A shadow under the incandescent lights, he saw just her frame first, and then when she stepped forward he found himself somehow immobilised by her stare. Her piercing eyes sought blame. Peace. Somewhere in the back of his mind, fisting his hands deeper into his pockets, Steve wondered if she was blaming him for the war.

"Are you alright there, little one?" he asked, smiling despite his nervousness. She didn't move.

He crouched down, careful not to let his foot slide off the kerb and into the gutter. "It's a little late to be out all by yourself, isn't it? Say, didn't I see you at the rally today?"

Again, she didn't move. She stared at him until he felt there was a hole burning through his forehead. Her little eyes grew bigger, reflecting the lamplight above when she looked up, and then she glanced back down to where Steve's face was a few feet away from her.

That was when Steve saw the white toy bunny in her hand, with one arm hanging on by threads and one of the ears stained black. Its fur was plastered in what looked to be blood. The little girl followed his eyes and clutched the rabbit's paw tighter, before turning back to look at him with her accusing eyes.

"My daddy's dead." She muttered.

Steve was shocked; "I'm sorry."

"He was a bricklayer. You made him a soldier."

"Pardon me?" his voice went hoarse. He could feel his throat drying. All sense of his surroundings vanished as he looked at this little girl, clutching her little toy rabbit in her sad plain clothes, alone in a world that had nothing but hardship in store.

"You made him a soldier. He wasn't a soldier before you. He wanted to make America proud, defend our country and fight. Now he's dead."

"It sounds like he was a brave man, little one. I wish I could have met him."

"No you don't. Brave men die every day out there. You're making them die. You. I blame you. You're the reason my daddy left."

She turned on her heels, eyes growing small again with rage.

"I hope America burns."

When next Steve saw that little girl, it was among one of the many dead. Her diseased body was given a respectable funeral, but due to her mother having gone missing no one was there – just him and a priest, and the little dirtied rabbit propped up against her grave.

Why he was remembering her as they went to Taneleer he didn't know. Perhaps it had something to do with Hel having a second chance. Perhaps he was mourning the loss of innocence, realising for the first time in a long time that life didn't change as the allegiances had. That little girl had hated him, blamed him for being what America looked up to, and now he realised that she associated him with everything that was going on in Germany; his rallies were Nuremburg rallies, his speeches Hitler's, and his justice as much a façade as the happy faces on those ancient, tired posters.

She, like Hel, had lost her life to war. Working class, royalty; the differences meant nothing. They were both little girls. And here was the only surviving one going through to make those memories known, with something on her head that was unknowingly guiding her actions, and he refused to let it stand. Loki would have his daughter back.

Steve remembered that sharp face of the little girl, and wondered if he could have done more to save her.


	24. Writing on the Walls

Hel and Garm took shelter in a cave that night, in a mountainside dotted with many yawning mouths. Their own was high enough to be unseen by predators; she couldn't shake the feeling something was after them, something that was not her father, but rather a malevolent force that was inevitably going to swallow them up.

The dog provided comfort, and when she managed to get a fire going with her spells Hel even dared to call the place cosy. Warmth seeped through her cold skin and went straight to her core, but she decided that she should have been much colder than she was.

_A result of being part Jotunheim, perhaps,_ she thought as she poked the burning leaves, _I never have been too concerned with the cold. Still, this world…_

Garm whimpered and nosed her temple. He could tell when her mind was working too much, when her overthinking would lead to more questions than answers, and despite his clumsiness and general stupidity he'd an innate sense of how to comfort.

Outside, the wind whistled and howled over the mountain and the blanket of snow, as though calling for them to come out. Garm twisted closer to his mistress while the fire flickered, casting contorted shadows on the jagged walls and frightening Hel.

She nuzzled against her dog's flank in an attempt to escape them; "How am I supposed to be a Queen when my own shadow frightens me, Garm?"

Her desperate question was left unanswered. Instead, he nudged her into the curve of his stomach like a mother wolf would to her pup, shielding her from the black matinee on the walls.

"I'm not wise enough, and I'm not brave enough to rule a realm," she began to sob like little children do, "I've nothing to my name except my daddy and this…this crown."

The metal, which Garm had been careful not to let stab his underbelly, glinted in the flickering firelight. Over the days it had grown heavy, as though it was becoming dominant over her rather than a part of her.

"If this is the price…" she let her fingers ghost over the frozen gold, "Garm, you have always been my loyal subject, yes?"

He nodded.

"You would always tell me the truth, so long as you were able?"

Again, he nodded, this time with his head on his great paws and his eyes staring at her.

"Can you tell me how I came to rule Helheim?"

The question required more than a simple nod of the head, and so the beast let a huff go out of his nostrils. He wasn't smart enough to tell her through hand gestures, wasn't skilled enough (or equipped with opposable thumbs) to draw it for her, and he felt his eyes wandering in desperation for something that could give her an answer.

That was when he caught sight of the drawings.

Primitive, like that of a child being hurried by its mother, the shaky stick figures depicted massive demons with horns like rams; demons he recognised to be his mistress's servants. In the middle of them stood a small, blurred figure with something long on – a coat, perhaps, or a robe made out of black ink. It took him only a second to realise it was his mistress, and the hulking great splodge next to her, him.

He angled his nose towards it. Hel followed his line of sight until she too caught it, and her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Drawings? What use have I for…"

She narrowed her eyes, squinting almost, as she realised what the drawings were. She recognised those things to be the demons that had wandered her realm. Her servants, did Loki say? Whatever they were, they had followed her commands.

Getting up, Hel moved over to give them closer inspection. The blurred figure must have been her. She would recognise her coat a mile away, even in a drawing, but this seemed more…sinister.

"Why have they drawn me so blurred?" she asked, her fingers ghosting along the smeared lines; "What…is it…Daddy's spoken of art before. He said that sometimes, techniques are used to show a certain message. Have they…did I lose myself? What happened during this war?!"

Her anger began to bleed thrown. The crown's emerald began to glow as Hel span around, stalking to the very edge of the cave mouth to shout out at the empty world.

"What did I do?!" her voice carried over the still blanket, could be heard above the wind; "What did I do to this universe?!"

Though she had expected no answer, the silence still angered her. Without thinking Hel hunched herself over, her hands against her chest as she gathered all her strength.

Her eyes went amethyst. Garm noticed them almost instantly, and though he had known her when she was the older Hel he still felt terror in his very bones.

She let out a tremendous shout; "Who am I?!"

The shout carried with it a force that she couldn't describe. Imbued with magic, it roared over the edge of the cave and began to crack a small path in the mountainside, eventually causing an eighteen foot radius of snow to be thrown up like a bed sheet. It exploded as though a landmine had gone off.

Hel let out a breath, her eyes dying in colour. They returned to green almost as quickly as they had become amethyst. She looked out at the disturbed snow, the broken path they had used to get to the cave mouth, and wondered where all her stored anger had vanished to.

She turned to Garm; "We must leave. You may not be able to talk, but if these drawings mean anything, I know of only one person who can tell me."

The sky outside changed ever so slightly. Darkened to match Hel's mood. Garm watched as his mistress stalked back to the fire, almost shoving her hands straight in it.

"Taneleer is still a collector, is he not? He must have something for me."


	25. Dear Antiquity

Loki tied a small bow on Taneleer's gag, grinning as the collector writhed against his bonds. It was fitting, he thought. One who could be intimidated into giving up his secrets was of no use, and so he would be treated like the nuisance he was.

"Did you really have to tie him up?" Thor asked. At the moment, they had created a makeshift prison out of cloth and wrappings, bits and pieces left around Taneleer's own office, and it had served them well. The man could barely move. In fact, if he tried to, he could almost feel the binds becoming tighter.

"Couldn't risk him escaping, could we?" the God grinned; "If there's a chance he has that thing stowed away in this little collection of his, I want him here when we find it."

Taneleer wanted to scream at him, to tell him that he had no artefact capable of bringing the dead back to life. It had been taken from him a long time ago. He still had no idea who the thief was, not even after months of searching, and to be reminded of this atrocity had him seeing red.

But he also very aware of the Captain's eyes glaring down at him, so he tried his best not to make too much noise. Whatever they were looking for wouldn't be found. He could rest easy knowing they would take nothing else, for on their little mission nothing else was relevant.

Hel and Garm were walking Yggdrasil by this point. It was a cold, cruel place, with dark skies and strange sounds coming from yawning den mouths, but whenever Hel looked she could see no creatures. Rumours had told her they were grotesque half-formed things, and somewhere in her mind she recalled an amphibian; perhaps a frog? It felt like she had been there before.

"_Too innocent to be here – too innocent!"_ hissed a familiar voice as the pair walked up a hill. The mist cleared to reveal a small pool at the top, surrounded by tiny jagged rocks that were placed in an almost ritualistic circle, and within the murky waters was an eel-like body.

_It reminds me of Jorgmundr,_ Hel thought.

"What's your name?" she asked, though Garm loomed over her like a clucking mother hen and tried to pull her away from it. Magical he may have been, but his abilities extended only to walking the roots of Yggdrasil and growing to unnatural sizes, all of which helped him to defend his mistress; but never seemed to make her help herself.

"_Little Miss Hel, too innocent to be here! Ever since the accident!"_

"Accident? What accident?" she managed to wriggle her coat's scruff out of Garm's teeth; "Enlighten me; what accident?"

"_The accident! Shot in the stomach, brought here – deal with the devil, isn't it, Queen Hel?"_

"I…remember…?"

She could recall the feeling of being shot. Somewhere in her mind was a small opening of light, and her fingers were clutching at something wet – her stomach, perhaps? A flash of crimson entered her mind as she felt herself falling, being met with hard stone beneath her – rougher than stone; what was that? – and the voice of someone else, someone she knew, screaming out as she collapsed.

"No!"

Flinching away from the water, Hel tripped over a misplaced rock and found herself squirming away on the floor, shuffling under Garm's great underbelly as though it would take her from the creature.

"What happened? When was I injured?" there was no wound on her. It couldn't have been recent. Or could it? It felt like time and space had somehow converged and brought her forward in time, while everything around her had aged.

"_Murdering little Miss Hel. Little Miss Queen Hel. Little Hel with that big, scary crown…"_

Given a sudden surge of panic, Hel tried to get the crown off of her head. The band only became tighter, until all she could feel was a horrendous pain threatening to squeeze her brain into goo. Her scream was so loud even Garm flinched.

The eel just laughed.

"_Little Miss Hel and her murdering ways, must make new regrets for the end of her days. Born the daughter, the blessed, the girl – cursed and evil became little Hel. She cried inside and killed in doubt. When she died, the truth came out. Still loved by father, mother, friends and foes; we are her destiny, and this, she knows."_

Loki tore through the museum like a man possessed. It had to be there. He would know it if he found it. But it seemed that no matter where he looked, what glass case he upturned or artefact he discovered, it was never the one he wanted. Where was that life-returning tool? Had Taneleer somehow anticipated their arrival and hidden it?

"You will tell me where it is!" the God raged, storming towards the bound man with magic erupting from his fingertips; "So help me, I'll end your miserable life if you deny me it!"

Taneleer shook his head furiously. He had no idea where the thing was! Perhaps in some thief's trophy case, gathering dust between gemstones and nondescript skulls, or it could very well have been in Odin's grand hall. Who was he to say?!

The situation was getting to Steve. All he could see in his mind's eye was that little girl he had almost taken back to Earth, the child he could have been the father to, and to know she was in danger was driving him to the edge. It was the third time Hel was caught in something she was too innocent for. Perhaps Loki thought it was his third failure, and that was the reason why he was so angry.

"There!"

Hel held the eel up to the dark skies, surprised to see it was no more than a black anaconda more commonly found in Muspelheim's lava pits.

Her arm dripped with the creature's murky water and her voice seethed with anger; "I won't have you speaking ill of me! I did nothing! And if I did, I assure you I will suffer by my own hand!"


	26. Masoleum

In a maelstrom of purple magic and glinting emerald, the Queen and her furred companion appeared in an all-too quiet museum.

Briefly, Hel recalled snapshots of the place – stilled images in which she recognised some of the artefacts, but never quite understood what they were. One short memory saw a whirl of bland colours as she did something similar to turning, but it didn't expand far enough for her to understand or make sense of it.

There were no people milling about the aisles. Glass cases were set equidistant from each other, as though prepared for visitors that had never showed up. The objects inside were polished, taken care of despite the absence of people, and by unspoken mutual agreement Garm stayed rooted to the spot so he wouldn't disturb it all, allowing Hel to move forward without him.

"Wow," she breathed, her small fingers ghosting against the very bottom of the glass, which she could only reach when she stood on her tiptoes and could only peer into when she found a forgotten cardboard box.

Garm whimpered the further she went from him.

"Calm." She soothed, stretching her hand back to wave at him but keeping her eyes fixed ahead, lowering herself so her knees were slightly bent when she crept along the floor, "This place is so…"

There were no words to describe it. Growing up as she had on Giantland and Asgard, she had thought no museum could hold more than her grandfather's vault. Those ancient trophies and stolen relics had been stockpiled for centuries and to her were like towering mountains. Her father even struggled to reach the top of it all. Could it be that, perhaps with careful placement and less mess, Taneleer had triumphed over Odin's collection?

"I heard stories about it all. I thought them exaggerated, even made up. How could I have been so blind?"

The dog's high-pitched whines met her questions, no more answers than they were detailed explanations, but despite this Hel continued talking. It was mainly to dispel some of the silence in the room. It was like a heavy blanket on a hot summer's night; uncomfortable and weighted, the young Queen was unnerved to the point of restless chatter.

"Daddy spoke about these!" she claimed, though she had no idea as she pointed to a set of strange, spherical jewels; "No doubt they're dangerous. I should stay away. Where is that blasted Taneleer? I thought he would appear out of thin air, like a true magic-wielder. Is he even a magic wielder? Where is he?"

Prowling through the aisles, Hel searched high and low – mostly low – for the elder. He had to be amongst his beloved artefacts. Somewhere in this organised place he was brooding, perhaps over a scroll or some lost gem from an ancient time, plotting where he would go next or what he would search for. She could see him so clearly in her mind's eye that it almost unnerved her. White-haired, bottom lip jutting out as deep blue eyes scanned over something unseen to her, he seemed lost in a world she could only hope to go to one day.

How did she know what he looked like?

She had only heard stories of him, surely? Things her father had told her when she inquired about the wider world, the universe that lay beyond them and seemed almost invisible, not there. He regaled her with stories sometimes too fantastic to be true. She could never imagine a war when she grew comfortably in Asgard – couldn't imagine the hardships of children her age, younger, of mothers left without their husbands, and though she knew she couldn't have known them she somehow felt as though she did. The hardships of war were brought down in her in a way that she knew it couldn't have just been the attack on Giantland.

Balling her hands into fists at her sides, Hel searched for some other explanation.

_Daddy must have told me about him before,_ she decided; _It's not unlikely. I ask him so many questions, how would I remember all the answers?_

Garm lowered himself to the ground on his great front paws, rump thrust into the air as he watched his mistress moving further down the aisles. He knew she would return, but there was something off about the museum. A stranger's scent, for one, though stale and seemingly harmless, and a mixture of people he knew – people he hadn't caught the names of.

Those mortals chasing after them had come to Taneleer's home. Recently too, if the smell was anything to go by.

He whimpered again, but the sound carried for only a second and then dropped in the still air.

Hel ventured further and further, unaware of how far she was going, not sure of anything except that she had seen this section of the museum before, filled only by a single table between disused cases. The space ignited a far-off memory with hazy edges, more like a dream than anything else; she could see the blond man that had almost taken her away when she went to Asgard, standing in front of her wearing that overly bright blue suit.

The others were there too, but none so prominent as the blond. For her, in this moment, in this forgotten stretch of time, _he_ was the reason she was alive, _he _was the reason she stayed alert, but she recalled being afraid – afraid to love someone as she had loved before, or afraid to trust again?

This was her clearest memory yet. In the way of feeling and seeing, almost nothing was out of reach. The girl knew that the metal suited man was standing next to her but some paces away, and that straight faced, hawk-eyed archer she had caught sight of on Giantland was somewhere behind. There was a woman there, too, femininely shaped but no less lethal, and beside her another man; kind eyes, she thought; intelligent, a bit of an introvert, harbouring within him a strong rage coloured green. Somewhere in the back of her mind she even recalled her uncle being there, but it was the blond who commandeered her attention.

And there, at the now-empty table, a ghostly visage of Taneleer Tivan appeared. Just how she remembered. Old but with a sharp mind, eyes quick to watch her and take note of her movements, but smug, and perhaps just a little too comfortable in her presence.

"I had hoped it wouldn't come to this."

Then a flash of purple burned through the image, and Hel could see no more.

Invigorated by this clarity, she called out to Garm; "I found something-!"

Her cries were cut off by a sudden hand over her mouth. Rough and calloused, Hel kicked against whoever it belong to, believing herself to be attacked, while flashes of purple magic and whips of energy erupted from her small body. Sharp eyes appeared out from behind the table.

It was the archer! He had his bow drawn and pointed at her, but a whip caught him and threw him to the side.

Something pricked through her coat; a needle. Feeling suddenly drowsy, Hel saw the world slip into darkness, watched as the corners of her vision blurred and were encroached by a dense shadow, all the while a soft and familiar voice soothed her.

"That's right, my girl – go to sleep now. It's time you rest."


	27. Shattered Attempts

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I simply can't have you running off again."

Loki was careful when he fixed the tape across Hel's mouth, noting the way she glared at him and attempted to shake him off. With her crown having been removed while she was sleeping, the Queen felt powerless, and despite struggling against her bonds she couldn't get them to break.

To their side the loyal Garm had been subdued – each of his great paws were tied down, ropes looped through built-in metal hoops that were situated on the floor, and Mjolnir was lying on his back to make sure the beast couldn't rise again. His eyes were looked on the pair as though he thought Loki would bring his mistress harm. High pitched cries rang through the air, peopled with a slight awkwardness as the Avengers watched the scene, standing shoulder to shoulder with each other in an attempt not to disturb the displays.

His whimpers grew as the God rose to his feet. Though his tone and manner were soft, his eyes had a hardness to them, perhaps to convey to Hel that he was still annoyed at her escape and his sympathy had its limits. Nonetheless the girl met his gaze, and inwardly he was proud to see her courage.

"That's it for the Great Escape, then," Tony said, glancing about as if looking for a drink; "Caught and cuffed. Shall we go home and celebrate?"

Thor had been trusted to hold Hel's crown, now kept in a little glass case so as to remove any lingering danger. He seemed eager to leave. Perhaps it was seeing his niece bound that unnerved him, or the idea that his hammer was being used to incapacitate her pet, but there was a stiffness in his movements that came only from being uncomfortable.

"I feel like there's more to this than we're seeing." Bruce admitted in a cautious voice. His arms were folded over his chest and his glasses were balanced on the end of his nose, regarding the little Queen with both fascination and dismay.

"Why do you say that?" Natasha asked from where she stood, between Clint and Thor. Hel recognised her to be the woman she had felt in her vision; her soft face was carefully blank, her shape feminine, and yet somehow she conveyed within her a deadliness that most would find exhilarating. Or unbecoming, depending on the company.

"It just feels like this is too easy. There must be more to it."

"Maybe we shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth?" Clint suggested; "We got the girl and we can go home. It's a regular 'happily ever after.'"

As they had their discussion, Loki couldn't help but take what Bruce said into account. It was true; Hel's capture had been easy, and even though he was aware they caught her off-guard he felt there was something bubbling under the surface. Something that would render their 'happily ever after' into a new kind of horror story.

"All I'm saying is that this makes me a little suspicious," the scientist sighed, his voice now exasperated and weary, "Sure, I could believe it more if it were a normal girl, but Hel? Really? You can almost smell trouble where she's concerned."

Loki gave him a sharp look over his shoulder, warning him to censor his remarks, but Bruce seemed not to care. After a moment's thought, the God acquiesced, with a distant thought that the comment wasn't far off from the truth.

It was in their talk that they forgot Hel was listening, that she could hear them even though she couldn't speak. The girl watched as her father joined their ranks and discussed what they should do next – whether or not they would untie her before they went to Asgard, what her punishment should be, how she and Garm should be separated until they found the appropriate course of action for them both. Her frustration felt like a repeat of something she had felt before. Perhaps she had grown out of having her father make decisions for her?

"We should make sure she is comfortable, at the very least," Thor suggested when Tony mentioned a carrier similar to Loki's old prison. He had noticed how it caused his brother's shoulders to stiffen.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. She will be, she will be."

"How can you be sure, Tony?" Steve interjected; "It didn't look comfortable for Loki, and he's quite a bit older and a lot more insane than Hel – no offence."

"None taken."

The girl glanced at her dog. In his eyes she could see pain; not a physical pain that hinted at some sort of mistreatment, but a deeper, emotional agony, which ran beneath a surface just about to crack. He was bearing his teeth. Any moment now, he would struggle against that mighty hammer, all in vain, and Hel would have to watch as her father subdued her pet even more – perhaps even with death.

But just as that thought entered her mind, the sound of shattering glass filled the air.


	28. Light Revelation

Hel stood over the body of her unconscious father, fists clenched at her sides. Her eyes were cold as she took her saviours into account; the demons stood there, expressionless, waiting for a command that never seemed to come.

"Why did you do this?" she asked; "Why did you hurt them?"

The noise the largest one made was nonsensical. Ears pricked up as though he was only mumbling, the Queen made him repeat it, and then sighed when she realised these things, whatever they were, hadn't the ability to speak.

"They are good people. They were…concerned for me."

Garm lowered to his haunches when Steve twitched in his sleep, aware that any of them waking up could be hazardous. Who knows how they would retaliate? The dog couldn't risk his mistress being in their line of fire, even if it meant he would have to stand in the way.

"I suppose you were only doing what you thought was right" the girl sighed as she went to her knees, stroking the sharp plains of Loki's face, "All this turmoil, and for what? If only he would let me see what happened. It must be terrible. What I did must have been awful. Were there a device that could give me answers, I've no doubt I would be driven mad."

It was then that one of the creatures – a softer faced one, with big eyes that hinted at a maternal nature – stepped forward, its great hand clutched over something rectangular. Hel looked up as it was offered to her. Whatever lay in that black palm was glowing, its white light flooding through the demon's cracked skin like a river would flow through broken water channels. It mesmerised Hel despite being hidden. In a moment she had risen, her mind now drawn from her father to that wonderful little device, as the creature's hand opened and revealed it to her.

The sweetest, softest music played.

"What is this?" she asked, taking it from her servant's hand. It looked like a simple memory box, not unlike the one she had lost on Giantland…in fact, it was an exact replica. Even the golden lock looked the same. As she held it up to the chrome ceiling above, the fluorescent white lights giving it that newly polished look, Hel realised it was not just a duplicate; it was the real thing.

"I…I thought this lost?" she said, confused, as she titled it backwards and forwards; "But it feels empty. Why does it feel empty, Gee?"

Her head shot up. A flare of recognition flooded through the creature's face, ignited by her name. Hel could only think of one person she had called Gee, a person who had towered above her and cared for all that once lived – a person who was beautiful, to the point where even her mother was occasionally jealous.

"You're…Geneva?"

The creature nodded.

"And you," Hel titled her head towards a smaller demon; "I know you. Your name is Lars. You had a teddy bear that you lost in Silver Sheen. And Silver Sheen was my portal into the other realms."

She shook her head. Details of her past life were coming back to her, but not the explanation. At the moment it was nothing but a string of things that happened, horrors that flashed in her mind and then were gone again, leaving behind them only remnants of a perpetual anger.

"How did this all come to be?" she asked, her voice quiet.

The music grew louder.

It caught her attention to the point where Hel found herself looking down, her small fingers stretching to clasp the box in one hand. She never remembered it being a music box. It had always been just an ordinary wooden thing, carved by a special craftsman her father had contracted before she was born. Why did it now play the sweetest lullaby she had ever heard?

"I know this tune," she realised, touching the lock with the tip of her finger; "_Of shapes and stars I call divine – of hearts and minds I claim mine – there is no better nor more desired, than the heart of her, my magic child. So if I fall to her sweet charm, and her sweet smile that does unarm, I bid no ignorance and claim no pride; she is my child, my girl, my life_."

The lock snapped open. It was as if it responded to that specific set of words, that lullaby that no one had heard apart from Hel. Loki's song, she remembered. Her father had made it up for her, told her it was special. Had she loved him so much that she made the box only open to that melody? Or was there something more sinister to it, more secretive?

A blinding white light flooded through the aisles and enveloped all that were near it. As though sensing Hel to be its owner, it engulfed her in what she could only describe in a veil of memory. Everything became crystal clear. She felt as though she was watching a moving painting, and had no choice but to stand still and observe.

It all passed by so quickly that she thought she could have missed it. But there was no missing what happened. The war, her first murder, her plots to slaughter innocent bystanders, all the while ruling from an icy throne; the same throne she saw when they went to retrieve Garm. The wasted no man's land was no longer that, but her home. She loved it just as she had loved her large manor on Giantland, and fashioned it to her twisted, evil beliefs. This was the Hel she had been. This was the Hel that preceded her, who had died from a single gunshot wound to the stomach, and who had finally vanished when she went through the consequence of being reborn.

When the light died away, so did all colour from Hel's face.

"I…I was…" she looked for the word, but couldn't find it. What flashed in her mind made her feel sick, almost to the point of collapsing and gasping for air.

_Monster._

"No…"

The weak voice had heads turning, realising too late that Loki had woken up and watched everything that had happened. His face was as pale as Hel's. His eyes glimmered bright as though he had failed, and his hands clutched his bruised side where he had been felled by Orvar's attack.

"Daddy," Hel went to him, falling to her knees and clasping a gentle hand on his cheek, "Why did you never tell me?"

"Because you will never forgive yourself. I know you, my girl. None of that was your fault. None of your misdeeds or attacks were your own. You were just trying to make sense of everything that happened to you. I never wanted you to find out what you had become," he paused for air; "And now you know. I've failed you."

There was a moment when all of the light went out of Loki's eyes, and he found himself wondering how he was meant to protect Hel now. She had seen the horrors of what had happened. She had watched what she did. Never would her mind be pure and innocent again.

"Perhaps not, Father."

Hel turned her head sharply to the new voice. Her mouth gaped open when she saw who stood there; his fur bristling in all its grey glory, his snout singed by silver hues, with dripping canines that were the size of Garm, who in his awe had backed away from this mighty beast.

"Fenrir?" the God murmured, squeezing his eyes shut; "What are you doing here?"

"I had business with Taneleer," his words were vague, and he was quick to change the topic; "But I see my family need me more. Hello there, sister." He nosed at the young girl, a happy gurgle in the back of his throat, as he shrunk his size down to better resemble a wolf.

"How will you make this better, Fenrir? There's nothing more we can do."

"Perhaps," he admitted, "But there is one thing we can try."


	29. Sweet Rituals

"What do you mean 'lay Hel to rest'?"

Loki's eyes narrowed as he looked at his son, the great hulking mass of muscles and fur. He hadn't changed much over the years. Greying around the snout, perhaps, and a silver tinge that snaked across his back, but hardly due to old age. The wolf had much to do; the stress could age even the youngest of men.

They sat in one of the many meeting rooms on Asgard, where they had brought Hel and her demons for their rightful rebuking. The girl sat beside her father however, enthralled by her brother's words, and trying to keep control of her emotions when she thought back to what she had done, what she was capable of.

"But I'm alive," she protested; "To lay me to rest, you would have to kill me, would you not?"

Fenrir stalked around the table, prowling the room as though he thought any of the people gathered there would attack. His mind was for his sister. He had known of magic and studied it much the same as her, but hadn't the inborn ability to wield it as she did – he, like Jorgmundr, was not destined for the magic-wielding bloodline.

And as he thought on how to reply, the Avengers found themselves wondering how their lives had grown so chaotic. Not only had they traversed galactic pathways to discover a little girl, they had seen that same girl resurrected, turned from a killer to an innocent, and now were plotting ways to calm her about what happened with her brother; a talking wolf, no less.

It was so unbelievable that most had just accepted without question. Questions would only lead to more questions, they thought.

"No," Fenrir eventually sighed, "We need not kill you, but your memory. What happened can never be corrected, my furless sister, but we can make it so everyone who died is properly recompensed."

"My blood is the only compensation worth theirs," she insisted; "If that's true, I will gladly let you shed it."

Loki's arm flew around her waist, a fire in his eyes as he exclaimed; "No!"

Hel tried her best not to look up at him, just listen to what he said, but she found her eyes wandering to his horrified face and bright, desperate eyes.

"If what Fenrir is offering brings peace to all involved, we shall do it. We shall do it a thousand times if we have to."

"But Daddy-"

"I've lost you more times than many lose a loved one, Hel, and definitely more times than anyone wishes to lose someone close them. You could never understand the hurt and pain until you yourself become a mother."

She wrinkled her nose at his words, and it elevated the mood somewhat. Tony found himself chuckling, feet up on the table, as he folded his arms and saw just a hint of the child Hel was.

"So do not ask me to shed your blood, my girl, and do not expect anyone at this table to pick up a sword."

Fenrir stayed silent. He was almost proud of his father for the dedication he showed Hel, but in the back of his mind he remembered all that had happened to her. He and Jorgmundr – who would be ecstatic to know the girl was returned – were loyal brothers, and in the time it took for word to reach them of Hel's 'demise,' it was already too late to mourn. She had returned as something horrifying. Something even they had never wished for to become. Fenrir would do anything to make her come to terms with her past, and look towards the future that shone so bright ahead.

"What else is there to do?" Thor asked, eyes on his troublesome nephew with arms folded across his chest; "How do we lay Hel to rest without laying her to rest?"

"She came back, did she not? And her mind gave her fragments of her memories, correct?"

"Yes," Loki pulled the princess closer to him, "That's true."

"I propose there is still a piece of the old Hel left within her, not yet dead. If we quell her and give her reconciliation, she will die."

"So, we won't be killing this Hel, just the Hel before her?" Bruce shook his head. When did this become a matter of split personality disorder?

"Essentially, yes. A small part of her previous self must have survived, or else there would be no memories. I daresay when she came back, one of her conditions involved her memories. To connect with her, though, we must draw her out."

Fenrir put his nose against Hel's head, earning him a growl from her loyal Garm. He had been chained up to the table, which if he had a mind to he could easily flip and destroy, but kept back for the sake of his mistress. He would not be the reason for her distress.

"And how do you propose we do that?" Thor asked. Loki had fallen silent. He assumed it was because the God still felt responsible for his daughter's death, and to come face to face with the ghost of who she was made him uncomfortable, perhaps even mournful.

"Magic. Hel, you know the Beyond spells, do you not?"

"A little. What Daddy taught me," she looked up at her father, and for a moment her eyes filled with that childish awe; "We never practiced them much because he said it was too dangerous."

"Good. If you know them too, this will be much easier."

The wolf jumped to the middle of the table, knocking over the five goblets that had been emptied over their talk. He hadn't even noticed the maids come in, too wrapped up in his task.

"Why?"

"To draw Hel out, we must put this Hel through Yggdrasil and further. To a Beyond no living creature should enter. That is where she resides now. That is where she remains connected to our furless lamb."

Hel turned her head, eyes narrowed; "In light of my misdeeds, you can hardly call me a lamb."

Loki sighed; "Quickly, then. I want for nothing more than her innocence returned to her."


	30. Condemning Actions

Much of what Hel owned had been destroyed after her resurrection.

Too many hurtful memories, Loki had said, as he selected which of his daughter's toys and garments would be burnt, which ones would ignite within her a faint sense of longing. He had no idea about her predicament back then. His only thought was that there was a chance she could pick up on the memories attached to her things, and had taken the precautions he saw necessary.

If only he had sensed that the memories lived inside her, not her things.

"I've no idea what else we can use," he admitted as they and the Avengers rummaged through her bedroom; "Everything on Giantland was destroyed long ago, and whatever remained here was burnt and replaced."

Hel scowled; "Nothing remains?"

"Not to my knowledge. Perhaps…"

The God stopped himself. There was much of Hel's reign that still existed in Helheim, but to go there and retrieve it would probably send the girl mad. Her memories would be like live-wires there. Nothing, not a single corner or frozen lake in that place didn't hold a meaning, an event, and now that she had full access to her mind Hel would remember everything that went on there.

"Well, we have the crown and music box," Steve put in, noticing the girl's downtrodden face, "Couldn't we just use those?"

Thor nodded. Around them was the mess of Hel's room, with the bed upturned and the dolls scattered about the floor, some of which had their eyes rolling out of their heads and their porcelain hands crushed from a teammate's boot. The girl cared nothing for them. In light of what she had done, she hardly laid blame for their destruction.

"He has a point, brother. They may just be enough, if we use her roses as well."

"No," Fenrir butted in, stalking from underneath one of the wardrobes as he grew back to average wolf size; "We cannot. Father, what did you use for Hel's last funeral?"

It made him shudder to think how many times his girl had 'died'; "Flowers, a collection of dolls, and a chest filled with her baby things."

"Baby things?"

"Clothes, the teddy bear I gave her at birth, the royal silver spoon – there was a Sleipnir masthead as well."

"So much care," the wolf shook his head, then ambled to his sister and pressed his nose to her forehead, "What are your most prized possessions, Hel?"

"Which Hel are you speaking to? The murderer, or the ignorant?"

"Whichever Hel can answer the question."

She paused for a moment. Thinking back, her most prized possession had been the music box, which had served her as a place to put her father's gifts and letters. When she came to the throne, it had been her crown, Garm, her demons, and Silver Sheen. But there was something there, something still held back from her, locked away in a drawer in her desk that she couldn't quite catch…

"We need a vial of Garm's saliva, a vial of my demons' blood, a vial of Silver Sheen – my enchanted pool," she added to the confused looking Avengers, "and something in my study desk, back on Helheim."

Loki's eyes widened; "Why do we need that particular thing? Could we not just use what you've already listed off?"

"Perhaps, but this…whatever it is, it's potent. Something is circulating around it that even I can't explain. When I see it, I hope it will become clear."

Hel, so business-like and matter of fact, looked more to Steve like the Queen he had met all that time before. Her hair was shoulder-length and her face sharp, haunted by past experiences, while her green eyes dulled somewhat at the thought of what she was, no longer amethyst in absence of blind anger.

"Do you believe it to be so important that we have to go back there?" Loki asked, the hint of a challenge on his voice; "No. I forbid it. What we have will have to do."

Hel turned to face him. Compared to his staggering height, she lived up to her name of the Stunted Giant; "Do not fool yourself into a belief! You know as well as I that these things will only give my anger the barest peace. Let me do this, to say goodbye to what I was."

"No. You will do well to listen to me, princess."

"Your fear of losing me is condemning us to a life of regret!"

The room fell silent. So tangible was this quiet that they felt as though they could reach out and touch it, manipulate it to form the words both parties refused to say. Hel glared up at her father with a raging determination in her eyes. The fearsome nature of her gaze caused his heart to swell, but out of pride or sadness he did not know.

"I know you mean well," Hel began when her anger had subsided somewhat, breathing out through her nose; "I know your actions are born out of love. But you have to trust in me now. You have to let me do this, for the sake of my sanity. I cannot go on as a functional princess – no, even a functional child – without giving recompense for what I did."

Bruce felt stunned both by the situation, and by Hel's words. She was acting years older than she should have; prepared to do something she had no basis in understanding, if it meant she could put the past to rest and properly honour those who had been hurt by it. It wasn't an entirely altruistic thing to do as she had some gain in it, but that didn't negate the nobility of her deed.

"Hel…"

"Daddy," she stretched up, standing almost on her tiptoes to accentuate her point; "You must let me do this. We must let the past go."

The silence returned. With it came an air of acceptance, which made Loki's deep sigh come as no surprise.

"Alright, my girl," he acquiesced; "But we're coming with you."


	31. Still Alive in Her Mind

In the cold, bitter light of Helheim's invisible sun, the Avengers got their first glimpse of the world Hel had ruled.

On the horizon they could make out the gathering of trees, their forms small and colourless against the ever-grey clouds, whereas closer to them the entire ground was covered in ice and snow. It looked undisturbed, as if no one had walked over it in a long time. That much was true, they supposed.

Hel, now with full access to her memories, paused for a moment to take everything in. She remembered that frozen lake. It was the place she had tortured one of her many victims. In her mind's eye she could see the Dark Elf with pointed, misshapen ears, clinging for dear life to her whip of purple magic, which every now and again would dunk him in. Her own maddened face – she could see it, watching the scene in third person – looked gleeful, but not noticeably so. It was her burden to bear. Emotion was dangerous for a Queen, and she had planned to be the most guarded one there was.

"I was heartless," she told the people gathered before her; "There. That's where I tortured some. I never killed them, though. No. Too selfish to kill them. I never knew for sure if torture-related death counted as war ones, and I was…afraid. Afraid to let someone get away from me. I thought we all belonged here."

She took a deep breath.

"How very wrong I was."

The snow was light, and it made no impact on them as they moved towards the great castle. Its very sight sent shivers down Steve's spine. A massive gate surrounded it, higher than any gate he had seen aside from those in prisons, running until it disappeared at the back. The courtyard just beyond the black iron bars was covered in snow and deformed statues. Angels, they may have been, but corrupted by Hel's anger, made that way to remind her there was nothing angelic or noble about her reign. It was simply her duty.

Hel raised her hand in the air. It stopped the Avengers despite it being quite an unnoticeable move, and they waited in silence for her to speak.

"There's a memory here," she declared; "Come – my magic's strong enough to see it."

Before anyone protested, they flung into her vision. Their vision grew hazy at the edges and blurred what they believed to be real life, their heads spinning for a moment as if they truly were being hurtled across time.

In the vision, Hel stood but a few yards away from them; a proud girl, with nine demons staring at the newly finished castle, itself just a stone sun that rested against the cloudy sky. She was older than she was now. She looked tired, but no less formidable.

A wicked grin spread across her face; "You have done well, my servants! Look at this, Orvar! Oh, you clever little things!" her hands clapped in maniacal glee; "Well, little may be the wrong word. Never-mind that, though. Look at our new home!"

Bruce noticed the stiffness in her joints, brought on by the apparent cold, and wondered for a moment where she had been sleeping before construction was finished. In the snow? Even the Queen of Death wouldn't have been so foolish. Would she?

"Come, come!"

But before this old Hel could vanish into her courtyard, a small whimper caught their attention. Something was struggling up to her in the snow; something tiny and half-dead, but more alive than anything else in that world.

"What is it?" she barked, and suddenly her eyes softened. A hand clasped around one of the iron bars, the girl fell to her knees and stared on, mesmerised by whatever she saw.

One of the demons made a nonsensical noise before they went towards it with a rock.

"Wait!" Hel growled and dived forward, out of sight for a moment, returning with a small furry bundle in her arms; "Why would we kill it? Think ahead, Lars! This poor thing."

She held it closer to her chest, tighter, almost as though her servants would snatch it away and kill it despite her protests. Soothing words met Steve's ears, but they were said in a language unfamiliar to him.

Even Tony was moved by the tenderness Hel exhibited. Her hands were gentle over the thing's matted fur, her eyes delicate, roaming over the bulk of it with the same care she would a priceless artefact. Were they seeing a time before she grew so wicked? Or was this just a prelude to the insanity that had engulfed her, the volatile nature of her being?

"What a gentle beast," she cooed, and two big eyes looked up at her from the creature's head; "You will live with us in this castle. It's far too cold for you to stay out here. More of an inside dog, anyway. What shall I call you?"

She thought for a moment. Then;

"Garm. Welcome to my terrifying little family, Garm."

The vision blurred into nothingness. The last that they saw was Hel walking into her castle, followed by her demons, with the quivering, cold puppy Garm in her arms.

The young Hel's eyes were moist when they turned to her. She had thought herself entirely bad, and perhaps in time she was, but even she had failed to understand herself – even she had forgotten the pain that had driven her to the brink of insanity and self-preservation. There was truly no one in the universe who had understood just what it meant to be Hel. Not even Hel herself.

"I…I thought…"

There was silence for a moment. Then Hel lifted her hand and purple erupted from it, covering the whole land in an eerie glow, before it vanished and they found themselves in her study.

"What are you-?"

Loki's words were cut off; "She's telling me something. She's showing me the way."

"What, yourself?" Clint was starting to get a headache; "You're showing yourself the way?"

"Not me. Well, I suppose she's me. It's complicated."

"No, you think?"

"Here," she lurched towards the study desk, not paying attention as the Avengers marvelled at all there was in the room. High bookshelves that reached up to the ceiling, a grand portrait of her brothers – the wolf they recognised, but the green-scaled snake that appeared black in the right light was new to them – and a small table set up with treats, replenished in her absence by the demons. Habits had been kept, they saw.

"What are you looking for?" Loki asked as he moved to stand beside his daughter. Her finger touched the lock of the desk as though frustrated, but it soon melted away and she flung it open without a second thought.

"This!" she grabbed the faded picture; "This will-!"

Her voice trailed off. The world around her had become blurry. Loki was quick to catch his daughter when she began to stagger, but as her eyes went distant and her body catatonic, he found himself shouting in the study that had heard no other noise in a long time. Certainly, it had never been filled with laughter.

"Hel! Hel!" he yelled; "Answer me!"

But Hel was far away by that time, taken to a land she knew all too well, with a person she had only heard of in half-dreams. As she straightened in the ash-filled ruins of Giantland, her hands balled up into fists.

She never moved her lips, but her voice filled the air; older, menacing, filled with bitter supressed spite as it said; "Hello, princess."


	32. Safety Inside

As Hel stared at the older version of herself, a lot of things went through her mind. How close she was to who she had been. How strange it was for her to meet herself as a separate entity. How similar they were in looks, with the elder being only a little taller. It was those eyes, she realised, that made the difference. Whilst her own were green and soft, void of horror, the older Hel's were sharp amethyst, hardened not only by her experiences but her response to them, and cruel no matter what angle they were looked at.

Behind her was the manor. The foundations were still there, but it was a skeletal frame, with wooden support beams in place and rubble all over the ground. The courtyard she had played in as a child was on fire. Older Hel – dead Hel – seemed more in tune with it, like it was but a manifestation of herself.

"Why have you been showing me what happened?" the younger asked, fighting to keep the quiver out of her voice. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I'm the only reason you're standing at all." Hel laughed. It was cruel, bitter, seeping through her companion's bones like the cold in Helheim. The sky above was painted red, bloody, and distantly the younger recalled a war having happened there; an attack on her own people, she remembered.

"I know."

"No, you know nothing," the sneer came back, the eyes intensified, "If you did, I doubt you would be as innocent as you are now. You are me, before I became…this."

They stood far away from each other, distance set by the younger being at the far end of the courtyard and the elder being on the porch step. She was elevated only slightly off the ground, but it must have been to symbolise her position – her position that would one day be her fledgling self's.

"My question. Answer it."

"Don't attempt to play the tough girl with me, little one. In our body, I did things you could never even dream of. Would you like to see them?"

"No; I never want to see what you did. That was on _your_ head, Hel, not mine."

"Do we not share the same head? I exist within you, little girl; I'm still there, whether you hear me or not. And oh, you did hear me, didn't you?"

It occurred to Hel that this older version of herself was much less cooperative than she thought. Was she not giving her hints on how to become good again? Was she not offering ways to redeem them both, either through magic or hard labour? All she seemed to do was give her that cruel smirk, the smirk that said she had won, that she would continue to win no matter what.

"We stand in the very epicentre of your mind, Hel," the elder made her jump by speaking; "Your thoughts here are as known to me as they are you. Why do I not cooperate? Tell me."

"I have no idea."

"Fool – I am the concentrated version of who we once were!"

"What does that mean?"

"My ruthlessness came from evil, which stemmed for our experiences in the Forest and Muspelheim's attack. But, it could never fully develop. Do you know why?"

"Because-"

"Because of you." An accusing finger was raised and pointed directly at Hel, who could only stand there in bewilderment; "I was never able to reach my full potential, because you stood in the way. You, little miss innocence, little miss righteousness. When we were merged, it was my conscience that marred my punishments."

"You tortured people!"

"And when we died, it was you who came out to apologise to our father. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to watch us fade away and know it was his fault."

She spoke undeterred by her younger self. She was a concentrated version of what Hel had been; without her 'conscience' she was pure evil, unopposed to cruelty, revelling in pain when she was able to cause it herself.

"When you made the decision to come back, there was a part of me in that decision. Do you know what our condition was, Hel?"

She struggled to remember. She knew it had something to do with going back to a purer state, but other than that she had no idea. What was draining her energy? She felt suddenly tired, like she had been up for days and had yet to take a rest.

The older Hel narrowed her eyes; "The condition was that you would return as you had been just before the attack, and would have a second chance at life. But, I would be trapped inside your head."

"To torment me…"

"I knew you would never let the past die, little girl. Too curious about everything; is that not how our father described you? I watched you play, I watched you sleep, I watched you be picked up by that lumbering oaf you call an uncle and pretend as though everything was the same!"

Behind her, the manor began to ice over. Purple erupted from the elder's body, but this was a sharp purple, a blinding hue that hurt the younger's eyes and forced her to look away. It only made her counterpart more angry.

"Nothing can ever be the same, Hel!" she yelled. The sky began to rumble with a distant storm. "Your father is a tyrant; your mother is gone; your brothers are miscreants on the other side of the universe! What hope is there for you? How do you expect to be anything more but the continuation of bad blood?"

A whip lashed out and struck the younger in the middle, causing her to fly backwards. As if by magic (she had no doubt magic was involved) a tree appeared for her to crash into.

When her eyes wrenched open, she felt a hand wrap around her neck. Two amethyst eyes glared down at her, seething with both anger and contempt, underlined by a malice that had been three hundred years in the making. The hand got tighter, tighter, until nearly all air was choked out of the girl.

"I can't kill you here, Hel," the elder sang, "But I know where I can."


	33. Open the Mind to the World Outside

"What's wrong with her?!" Thor was on the verge of panicking, but his strategic training prevailed him and he fought to keep calm; "What's happened?"

Loki was clutching his catatonic daughter, just as confused as the people surrounding him. In her hand was the object they had sought – a painting, burnt at the corners, of her and her parents when they still lived on Giantland, one of the rare times they could coax Angrboda into it. Her sudden trance made no sense to him. What could have caused it?

"We have to wake her up. Hel, can you hear me? Sweetheart? Princess?" he shook her shoulder as he pulled her into his lap, "Please, you have to try and listen to me now."

But there was no reaction. In the very depths of her eyes he thought he saw a flicker of confusion, then fear, but so distant was it that he couldn't tell for sure.

"Maybe something's sent her into shock?" Bruce suggested. The researcher fell to his knees beside Loki, checking the girl for any signs of injury they may have missed, something she might have covered up when she was captured, but there was nothing. No physical damage, no marks that indicated a scrap at any point; she was completely clean.

"Please, Hel. Please wake up for me."

Back in her mind, the younger Hel's throat was being squeezed until no air could filter through. Her mouth dropped open in a scream, but no sound came out. Her vision was still so clear though, like nothing was happening, no evil entity was trying to kill her in a place she had once called home.

"I can't kill you here, Hel, but I know where I can."

Loki clung to his daughter's rigid body as though it were going to disappear. She had put him through so much anxiety over the years, and yet he couldn't bring himself to let her go. She was his daughter. No matter what she did, where she went, what she became, she would always be his daughter. Was he a fool for doing so much? The thought had crossed his mind on occasion, but always he resolved there was no such thing as 'too much' for a child, no such thing as too loving or too loyal. After her mother's disappearance and her brother's absence, he was all she had left.

The body in his arms convulsed. Without thinking, he flinched back, and watched as Hel slid from his lap and began to twitch on the floor. Fighting back an enemy, it looked like. Her eyes were no longer distant but alive with fear, conflicting emotions of relief and anguish rife through the green pools, before her body gave another jerk and a boom filled the air.

The Avengers were ready in no time at all. Armed and on their feet, each one aimed a weapon at the sudden smoke that was enveloping Hel's body, prepared for whatever revealed itself.

"Ah," a cold, cruel voice sighed as a small silhouette appeared in the fog; "Much better." It stretched and rolled its shoulders, standing over a now sitting form that seemed to gaze up at it in shock.

"Who are you?!" Steve shouted. The smoke had cleared enough for him to see Hel on the floor – the younger Hel – but whoever had just arrived had her back to him, wearing an identical set of clothing to the princess, an air of malice about her that evaporated into manic laughter.

She turned. The team silenced.

Amethyst eyes were noticed before anything else. But these were different to how they had been before. Once uncertain, with just a little good in them, these were devoid of anything human, glinting with a wickedness achieved not even by the greatest villains. Her face was ghostly, not warmed by blood, and her smile twisted on her face like nothing they had ever seen before, making Bruce want to vomit with the sheer intensity of her evil.

When they heard her voice, it was imbued with the ice of a thousand harsh winters.

"My, my; you have everyone with you, don't you?" she laughed; "And here I was hoping that our business would be quick. Did you need help following the signs?"

"Signs?" she stiffened when she heard her father's voice, but only for a moment. It melted into a stance of triviality and quiet, smug confidence. "What signs?"

"The signs I sent her. I had to get out, did I not? To be stuck in her innocent little mind with all her memories – torture! And to exist when she thought I didn't! I could hear the lies you plied her with, Trickster, and now I've come to finish her off."

"What…what are you?" in his mind, Loki fought to understand how this had happened. How could there be two Hels before him? He could pick the true Hel out as though it were screamed from the rooftops – the girl on the floor was his – but this imposter, this replica of who she was…it sent an unnerving chill through his body. Was it possible she was Hel also?

"What am I, he asks! Indeed, I would expect no less. Do you not recognise the Queen of Helheim, Trickster?"

"That's Hel," Tony barked in a metallic voice; "And she's sitting right there. Now answer the question. Who the Hell are you?"

"I'm Hel! But the better, more experienced version."

"That's impossible."

"Is it? Were you there when we picked our condition to return?"

The room went silent again. Steve, Loki and Thor were the only ones who truly knew what she was talking about, but their mouths had gone dry. They had just assumed Hel had returned with her memories erased. But, when they thought about it, that was more a mercy than a consequence.

It was Steve who broke the quiet; "What was the condition, Hel?"

"Ah, the mortal. She had a soft spot for you. Not me, though." The elder shook her shoulder-length hair and bared her teeth in a smile. "The condition was that she would become innocent again, but her evil would never go away. I am that evil, Captain. I'm the concentrated, ruthless version of Hel. And this," she gestured to the study around her; "is the place you're all going to die."


	34. Evenly Matched

An explosion of brightly coloured purple shards tore through the group, seconds before the evil Hel disappeared from sight. Her laughter rung out like that of a hyena; she was mocking them, wherever she was, and it reverberated around the room as though in a cave, echoing from walls that were slowly freezing over.

"Find me!" she challenged as they struggled to their feet. Loki had a deep cut just below his eye where one of the shards had caught him, but he wouldn't allow this imposter to terrorise his daughter. Vexatious though their relationship was, he would lay his life on the line for her.

"Enough of this!" Thor boomed, preparing his mighty Mjolnir; "Come out and face us!"

"Uh-uh-uh, my false uncle – do you really think your hammer has merit here?"

The disembodied voice was accompanied by a loud rumble from the distance. Thunder. The storm outside was growing stronger by the second.

The younger Hel was picked up by her father as a mist began to rise around them, as though someone had opened a door to a cold forest. The study shelves grew to become trees; they stood there like dark soldiers, the branches an impenetrable lattice that allowed no sunlight to pour through.

"Where the Hell are we?" barked Clint. His bow was readied for whatever came at them, but there were no enemies he could see, at least not any who would openly attack them yet.

"Can you see where I was born, Avengers?" the cackle sounded like it was far away. Shadows appeared behind the thick trunks and moved between them as if they were children playing, an ominous laughter filling the air.

Steve was unnerved – here, the evil Hel had the upper hand. If she had created this vision or teleported them somewhere else, she must have had a knowledge of the landscape. He almost hoped for the later, since he had no idea what to expect should she have full control of the area.

"What is this place?"

"You became quieter here, Hel," glowing amethyst eyes appeared in the mist; "I came to life here, because you failed. Oh, how glorious was that day…"

Just as Clint shot an arrow into the mist, the eyes disappeared. They reappeared seconds later in a completely different corner, and the Avengers twisted round to face her as the children's laughter grew louder.

"Leave her alone!" Loki bellowed. His arms were clutched so tightly around Hel that it hurt, but she was too terrified to say anything. She remembered this place. She remembered all the things she had done there, all that had transpired. The evil Hel wasn't a being in her own right; she was an embodiment of the cruelty that had seized the Queen's heart that day, a manifestation of all that was wrong in the universe, and that was what made her all the more dangerous.

"Brother, stand and fight with us!"

"We can't even see her, Thor!" Bruce felt his vision going green, but he had yet to lose control. He had to know what they were dealing with before he could fight.

"She's got us scrabbling around in the dark!" Natasha's words were etched with a cold urgency; "Where is she?!"

"Here!"

The words were barely out of the evil Hel's mouth before Natasha was hit by a whip of purple, sending the Russian flying and smashing into one of the trees. For a vision, it was solid. Her head pounded as she rose to her feet, ready to retaliate, but she had vanished again.

As though spurred by the attack, the younger Hel fought her way out of her father's arms. Her green eyes were tinged with fury.

"Scared, are you?" she challenged, "Only a coward would hide away! Are you a coward as well as a murderer?"

There was no response other than the distant echo of manic laughter, and Hel called into the Forest as the brave Queen she knew she had to be; "You've no place in this universe anymore! Stand up and fight, coward, or go back and die!"

Two hands colder than the grave wrapped around her neck. She couldn't see her attacker for she ambushed from the back, but she could feel her frozen breath creeping along her cheek and ear.

"I'll kill you with my bear hands," the evil Hel promised, no hint of mirth in her voice; "I'll kill you and take everything that's owed to me."

Hel was choking; "Y-You are owed _nothing_."

"You still believe yourself to be the real Hel? The useful Hel? You could never lead Helheim – only I can see it to its rightful glory. My cold Kingdom will be red with blood by the time I'm through."

"A crown would never be true on your head," she had no idea why her father wasn't helping her, but Hel felt her feet raise from the ground, her vision blur at the edges and her face go hot; "Your cruelty will lead to your downfall. You are not ready. I was not ready."

"Die!"

Loki could only watch behind a wall of meshing purple shades as his daughter was attacked by her double. He pounded on the force-field with all his strength, screaming out to let her go, take him instead, it was his blood she wanted, his head she was after, not hers, not his precious darling Hel's. Nothing could be heard beyond that wall. They were in a pocket of space not accessible to others. If Hel was to survive, she would have to do it on her own.

"Y…You…"

Hel's vision was going fast. She could barely make sense of what was going on around her; vaguely, she saw the outlines of nine Giant-lings, the silhouette of mothers that had a single basket between them, but each time she tried to focus the evil Hel only gripped tighter.

_I have to stop her before she can do real harm…_

"Any last words, my pitiful fool?" the elder hissed into her ear.

With as deep a breath as she could take, Hel managed to choke out; "_Darkest dawn, I bid you night, for I'll fight back with all my might!"_

The spell was dangerous, self-destructive on most attempts, as it used the very essence of one's being to send a shockwave of concussive force across a small area near them. Hel had never used it before – warned about it enough to know it would work, but she had expected it to result in both their deaths.

Loki was astonished to see the evil Hel fly back, through her own protective wall. That spell he had only seen once before; the wielder had died as well his foe, and holding his breath he turned to see what had become of his daughter.

There Hel was, the colour returning to her face. Since she had been choking her essence had fading, and so the force had only been enough to catapult her attacker away and give her the chance to collect herself.

The evil Hel got to her feet from where she had landed, beside a boulder with a jagged front; "A good hit!"

They both took up fighting stances at the same time. The Avengers joined the younger Hel in a semi-circle behind her, but ultimately they knew it was her fight. They could keep her from dying, but she was the only one who could perform the spells necessary to defeat her doppelganger.

"This ends today!" she declared; "Your legacy is over!"

The evil Hel readied her hands; "So we shall see."


	35. The Wisest Queen once said

Evil Hel had her weaknesses, despite what she said.

Her confident manner was occasionally broken by a glimmer of emotion – rage, and sometimes even disappointment – but these were few and far between. Her magic was strong enough to attack entire armies, yet as she flung whips and shockwaves and shards at them, the Avengers realised she hadn't gained full control over them.

Hel charged forward with the intention of knocking her doppelganger over, but the evil Hel was too fast. She dodged and brought her to her knees by kicking her legs, a hand clasped at her throat, which released when a loud explosion tore her attention away.

Arrows fired all around them. Clint was defending the girl as best he could; shards came from every angle, and between dodging and keeping his head on his shoulders the archer wasn't sure he was having much effect.

"I think we should level the playing field, don't you?"

The shadows poured out into the centre of the clearing, intangible beings that soon took definitive shape. They were huge and towered over even Steve, who yelled instructions over the constant noise of battle.

"Secure Hel!" he shouted at Tony, ignoring the fact he was locked in a death match with one of the shadows; "Make sure she's safe!"

"Hang on!"

A massive roar had the Evil Hel staggering back. She had caught sight of the meek doctor moments before he vanished, and she had thought he died in the chaos. What a fool she was!

This creature, knotted with green muscle and an indescribable rage, made even her shadows pale for a moment. They flickered enough for Tony to blast one back into the mist, where it dissolved and joined its white fog brothers.

"Nice work!" Natasha called as she ran back and forth between two of the things, careful not to let their dark hands grab her. Her hair was almost caught once or twice, but she was too quick.

Hel and evil Hel were a little away from the fight, where they could face each other as equals. Not that either thought themselves to be equals. For the more innocent girl, she saw this thing in front of her as cruelty having stolen her face, taking with it her name and all the hardships she had ever suffered. It was not a person; rather, it was just a force driven by hate. For the evil girl, Hel was nothing more than an annoyance to do away with.

"Will you just die!" the older spat, tossing at her agile double a horde of misshapen purple balls.

"Not until you've lost!"

Loki and Thor fought side by side, as they had done in Muspelheim and the wars predating it. The brothers so long divided by lies had come together in a glorious portrayal of their once close bond, and their attack was made stronger through each other's support.

"Behind you!" the blond God shouted, giving Loki enough time to duck before Mjolnir was thrown and hit the shadow behind him. His thinner brother smiled in thanks.

"We have to get to Hel!" he called over the noise, "I have to protect her!"

"She's strong enough to hold her ground – let's help her as much as we can!"

Hel ducked under a flash of pure purple, only to be met by a swift knee to her nose. The older girl kicked her to the ground where she laid, a rivulet of red trickling down her face, only able to look up as the evil Hel loomed over her.

Those eerie amethyst eyes intensified when a hand came down. She felt the world tilting as she was raised from the ground and lifted to the dark canopy above like an offering to some barbaric God. Hel now looked down at her assailant, and saw in her eyes a glee that verged on hysteria.

"Poor princess Hel!" she mocked; "At the hands of her better!"

A shock of silver entered the younger's vision for a moment before she fell to the floor. Looking up the second she had gathered herself, she saw Mjolnir flying back past her eyes, and Thor flash a quick smile as he dived back into battle.

A small groan of pain had her turning her attention to the elder, who had crashed into a tree after the hammer hit her. On one bent knee with a hand supporting her weight, she clutched at her head like a creature – a _person_ might have done – but her amethyst eyes looked up with even more anger in them than before.

"You insolent little whelps!"

Magic attacked magic in a war of power. Both Hels managed to keep their ground and even advance a little every now and again, but it seemed they were evenly matched; the younger had been practicing.

"Look at that defence!" Clint cried, dodging the sweep of a shadow's arm, "Jesus, you didn't tell us she was good!"

"She's a routine visitor of the training grounds on Asgard. She knows her positions!"

Loki felt a bloom of pride in his chest for the people's words. He cared nothing for them, perhaps, even hated them for the humiliation he had gone through at their hands, but their praise meant more to him than he thought they would. They recognised that Hel herself was not the enemy, but rather her duplicate. It made him hope they would appreciate her fickle nature.

"Why don't you give up and beg for mercy?" the evil Hel leapt forward but was blind-sighted by an attack; "If you do, perhaps I won't kill you!"

At that moment, Hel realised an awful truth. In this battle, she wouldn't get the chance for mercy. That luxury was unavailable to her. If she meant for the anger to end, for the hate and the pain to die and the evil Hel – her, or her hardships – to be at peace, she would have to do the unthinkable. It brought tears to her eyes just to contemplate the act.

"No, Hel."

The opportunity to pin her came at the right time. Just as the last of the shadows were defeated, the evil Hel lost her concentration, and the younger deployed a spell which flung her to a tree and immobilised her.

"It's over."

The scene began to melt away. The horrifying vision gave way to study walls, now free of ice, and the trees became furniture again, the mist dying until all but a whisper remained.

Evil Hel watched as the Avengers shook of the dredges of the fight. They were resilient, but an air of sombreness took them, as though they had heard some bad news about a close and personal friend. She tried to fight back her restraints, but to no avail. She was at the mercy of those she would never show mercy to.

Hel took a deep breath as she went to her desk, where from a hidden compartment in the wood she pulled a long and jewel-encrusted knife. It was a letter opener she had received from an admirer of her work. Now, its job had turned sinister.

"It's over, Hel."

Her voice was small. The Avengers suddenly realised what was going on, but they were too late to react. A force field stopped them from advancing forward, and the only ones beyond the barrier were herself, evil Hel, and Loki.

The God looked at his daughter with a heavy sadness in his eyes.

"Are you certain, Hel?" he asked, soft concern in every word; "This…this is…"

"This is necessary. I…I just…need…"

The evil Hel regarded them both with humiliation, anger and fear, as though she had seen something that waited for her in the Beyond.

"You can't kill me," she growled despite her expression; "I'm…I'm you! I'm the more experienced you! The crown belongs to me!"

"NO!"

The force of the shout rattled the walls.

Softer; "No. The crown you wore was evil contained. Your hatred corrupted its power and it became your conduit. What you are, Hel, is something not meant for this universe."

"Not meant for this universe! If I were not meant for it, the potential would have never been unlocked!"

She was struggling, trying in vain to get out of her constraints and fight back, defend her life. There was genuine terror in her eyes. Once so calm when they were joined, perhaps it was the goodness in Hel that had made it so. The thought of Beyond made her quake with fear.

Hel looked down, clutching the blade's cold handle until it hurt. She knew what she had to do. It was for the good of the universe – to kill one she would save countless others. But the idea made her heart ache, and she never thought she would live with herself after, merely exist.

"The potential exists within us to do a great many things," she said; "Were we to do them all, there would be no harmony. Our paths would collide and misdeeds would envelope the cosmos. Good and evil would no longer exist – they would burn in the flame of our chaos, and we would be without morality, without immorality, without law. This is what a wise Queen must understand, Hel. Just because you have the potential to do something, does not always mean it should be done."

Loki saw in that moment the Queen his daughter would become. She would be just, fair, and strong over her people, and they would love her just as he did. They would revere her words with the same dedication they would revere a God's. She, his legacy, his girl, would see peace brought to death once more.

She moved forward, blade readied. The evil Hel gave one more valiant effort, but in doing so exposed her neck, and Hel fought back a tear as she aimed the tip for the skin.

"Have a peaceful rest, Hel."

Crimson covered her hand the second the knife was plunged in. A howl of pain washed over the small space as the force field broke down, and the Avengers ran in too late to save the girl.

Hel stepped back to watch her enemy pass over. With respectful eyes she gazed at the girl, who not ten minutes before had been fighting with the strength of a hundred men, twitching and clinging to her last vestiges of life. They ebbed away despite her struggle. No colour drained from her face as there was none to drain, and slowly, ever so slowly, Loki watched the horror that had clung to his daughter die – this time, by her own hand.

Just before the evil Hel's head slumped forward, she gave a warbled cry that faded off into a gurgle. Her amethyst eyes dulled as the gurgle itself began to quiet, and then silenced all together. Hel's imposter had died; her battle had reached its end.

The walls began to shake.


	36. The Second Great Escape

The Avengers pulled together in a tight circle, eyes looking out from all directions. The walls were now shaking as though there was an earthquake; an impossibility, for Niflheim's makeup included none of Midgardian geography.

"What's happening?" Steve asked with a note of urgency in his voice, raising it just a pitch higher than normal.

Hel knew, though she couldn't tell how; "This castle was one of her conduits – it's dying with her."

The evil Hel's head was shaking with her castle walls, which began to crumble, shedding massive boulders of stone that had taken decades to place. Hel's magic shield depleted and the body fell to the floor, where it lay in a pool of blood pouring from her wound. The silver handle of the letter opener glinted in the wall sconces' light.

As though brought to her senses by the glint, Hel flinched back and glanced all around her. Loki put his hand on her shoulder.

"We have to get out," she said; "This place will bury us."

With that, she charged to the door.

The team followed her without questioning it, for who were they to argue about the logic behind her words? In a universe where children could oversee death and face themselves in a physical fight, there was hardly an argument to be made about whether or not they would die from being crushed.

"Follow me!"

The lights were dying now, as though the castle's energy was waning. Hel was a darkened figure in the long corridor, where during her reign she had walked to rid herself of unhelpful thoughts, and it was only her father and uncle who charged forward without a second's hesitation.

Tapestries depicting ancient myths were on fire or freezing over. When they entered the throne room and main foyer, they saw Hel's cathedra had cracked along the back, the mock-ice effect having vanished to look like black stone. The portraits were withering in their frames and looked suddenly like madmen, the people within burning without the picture itself being alight.

"Hel!" Loki snatched his daughter into arms seconds before a large part of the roof crashed down. The girl was surprised for just a moment, but soon shook it off.

She turned to face the people and pointed towards the door; "Break it down."

Steve and Thor were the first to attack it, but the wood held fast. Hulk joined in their attempts with a mighty roar, Tony a little way behind with his weapons, and soon accompanied by Clint's exploding arrows and even Widow's kicks. No matter what they did, the door was built to last.

"We're stuck!" the Captain exclaimed, hitting it once more just for good measure.

It was a death sentence. As the walls continued to shake and the castle began to fall apart, they pulled together again in another tight circle, this time to accept a fate they believed certain. Loki pulled his daughter – the girl he had tried to save, but would now follow into death – close to him, muttering a heartfelt goodbye.

"It seems this is the end, my girl," he murmured; "Perhaps our destinies were always tied to this."

Hel looked up and took his sadness into account. She saw the way his eyes glimmered for just a moment, revealing what lay beneath his complex personality, and then died to expose satisfaction. Who were they to argue against their fates? They were merciful, in a way; together, the pair would fall, and walk to the Beyond without fear.

"No."

Loki raised his eyebrows. "What, Hel?"

"She will not win this. We will live. Everyone, stand closer together!" the team did as they were instructed, looking at their tiny commander with a sort of intrigue. "Hold hands. Skin on skin contact, metal man."

The corner of Tony's mouth rose as he uncovered one of his hands, and there was satisfaction on his face when he clasped the sweating skin with Clint's. The archer peered at him petulantly.

Hel's hands were taken by Steve and Loki, who listened to her without a trace of trepidation. They had no idea what she was planning, but they knew she would not steer them wrong.

"You may feel very cold," she explained to them over the clamour of falling stone; "I'm going to attempt to connect all of our energies together and project a shield. If it works, it will be strong enough to keep us alive. If not…"

Her voice trailed off. If it didn't work – and there was a chance it may not, for she had only caught glimpses of the spell in old legends – they would be crushed by her castle.

"Whatever you're gonna do, do it fast! The walls are coming down!"

The team suddenly became very, very cold. Their blood felt like it had been replaced by ice and their breath came out in puffs of steam, the scene around them in a sort of slow motion. Tony's hyperactive mind was even slowed enough to catch the tiny pieces of rock that broke away from the large boulders, only to bounce on the floor like the pathetic kid being beaten up in school.

Hel, on the other hand, was hotter than she had ever been before. Her face was on fire and her hands burned against her father and Steve's skin, like a scolding metal iron had been pressed against them. But they couldn't let go. Letting go would mean severing the connection, and that had disastrous consequences for them all.

There was no chant on her lips – no rhyme to put a human face on the spell. So ancient was the incantation that it came before children were trusted with magic, locked away from the rest of society until they came of the expected age. The rhymes had only been invented when magic-wielders decided to teach their children rather than let them think themselves dangerous, even malevolent.

Just as the roof gave way and began to fall in them, the girl gave a great shout, and the burning grew worse.


	37. Of All that was Touched

When the dust and smoke cleared, all was silent.

The castle lay in pieces. Above, the ever grey skies were rumbling with a distant thunder, always there no matter the season, like the blizzard that seemed to grow thicker whenever someone walked in it. The courtyard's misshapen angels were broken, some with their heads sliced off to lay in the building snow.

On the horizon was the Forest, now on fire. Each tree was a blazing torch to guide whatever lost soul wandered that lonely plain – it beckoned them with warmth, and would guard them with passion.

As the last remnants of the smoke cleared, a dome-like, purple shield became apparent. Deep within stood five amazed mortals, their eyes wide, and two concerned aliens who stared at the smallest of them all; the girl with the head pointed upwards and her eyes squeezed shut, mashing her lips together with the strain of maintaining the spell.

It was much more difficult than a simple ward. For one, it had to go over a larger space, with more people inside than most wards would be capable of. It also had to hold against something that was built to withstand storms, blizzards and attacks collapsing down on it, which wasn't a feat easily accomplished.

Soon enough, Hel's limbs began to shake. Her hands trembled as she tried to dissipate the spell – a slow process, or else it might have shocked her system and caused a meltdown of sorts. Loki found himself crouching on the stone floor to hold her, as though his presence could make a difference.

But it was Hel's burden to bear.

"You did well, my girl," he was saying as her eyes flickered open; "You did so well. Now that this is over, we can go back to Asgard and live life as we should. I'm so proud of you."

The girl took his hand and offered him a weak smile. An optimistic thought, to go home and never look back, but one that was out of reach to them. She needed to finish what her evil side started.

"There are other conduits," her voice was small, worn out, "I felt them when the castle collapsed."

The Avengers had fallen silent around her, either in awe at her skills, or wary of the magic they knew still ran in her veins. Some prejudice was natural; when they had met her, she was hardly the do-gooder she claimed to have become.

Thor was quick to question, "What others? What do you expect us to do?"

"Take me to them."

"What can you do? If they're conduits of her power, they are no longer a threat. The Hel we knew is dead. Let her memory die with her."

"That's precisely what I plan to do. With these things destroyed, we can lay her to rest. She needs to be at peace."

Steve rubbed at his eyes. His stamina may have been heightened, and he had seen a lot in his short time with the twenty first century, but he was reaching a point with Hel where weariness was more or less the norm.

"You mean to destroy these things?" Loki asked, though he did not stand. His hand was on his daughter's shoulder to convey to her he was still there, he would be there no matter what she did.

She nodded; "Fenrir was right. We have to give her a proper ceremony – a funeral, like the one you gave me. But we have to destroy her conduits if we want her influence to disappear. The crown, the demons…Garm…"

Her eyes moistened. The thought of destroying her faithful dog for the good of the universe cut her in ways she couldn't describe, but there was no other choice. If they were not taken from their dimension, the Evil Hel's influence would never die, and nor would she find peace in whatever Beyond she traipsed.

Bruce, understanding what she meant, put a hand on the girl for the first time in a while. To lose a pet that had been with her through her travels would be hard, but not impossible. He had sympathy enough to recognise her inner struggle, though it didn't extend to believing there was a way around it.

"What else is there?" he asked, voice soft and knowing; "That can't be it."

"There's one more thing. I…I can see it…"

And so she could. Something that was enveloped by light, filled with jewels and a crumpled set of letters, and on those letters she could see writing – curly, neat writing, which reminded her of…

"My music box. The one I used to keep your gifts in, Daddy. But…it was empty…" she shook her head; "The one I'm seeing is full."

"Hel, in light of all that's happened, do you not think that the box might be full now? It wouldn't be the most preposterous thing."

"I destroyed them. I must have. It would make sense."

"We just travelled across the universe, killed your older duplicate and had an ancient castle fall on us. What makes sense these days?" Clint shrugged his shoulders to push away the idea of 'sense,' whatever that was, "Worst case scenario; the box's empty. Best case scenario; it's not. If we don't go find it, we won't know for sure."

Thor's mind activated again; "Where did you leave it, Hel?"

"In Taneleer's museum. No doubt one of the demons picked it up again. If we go to them, I'm sure they will have it."

"They're still on Asgard, aren't they?" Tony sighed; "I'm getting tired of going from one place to the next. Can we just stay here and call 'em?"

Hel, who by that point had remembered Tony's sarcastic character, snapped her fingers as though commanding his attention. It was then that a zip appeared at the corner of his mouth and sealed it, causing him to give her a dispassionate, blank stare.

A muffled sound, which was curiously similar to; "Do you mind?"

"I like that look on you, metal man," she laughed as she began to climb out of the rubble; "It makes a more interesting conversation."


	38. To Chance

The conduits were to be destroyed by the one who had created them – or at least, her true form.

When they reached Asgard, not all were pleased to see the Queen. Some of the citizens hadn't yet forgiven her for crimes gone past, and they fled from the streets as she stormed towards the castle, once her home, now her prison.

"They run from me," she noted as the others struggled to keep up. For someone with such short legs, she was incredibly fast. "Still she lives."

"They remember you as her."

"Until she's gone from this universe, so it shall be."

"You know," Tony rushed up to walk beside her, though he had to use all the stamina left in his body, "The way you guys talk is interesting. No slang or anything, is there? How did you manage to keep that out?"

Hel glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but said nothing. He was not important at that moment. The glimmering streets of Asgard, with their noble people who had once revered her, weren't important. Even her grandfather – once grandfather, she recalled – was unimportant as she focused on taking that unlocked potential from the fabric of space and time, and dealt with it in a manner she had only half-thought about.

"Is that really important right now, Tony?" Natasha asked. Her boots were digging into her feet and giving her blisters, so new were they, but not even a grimace crossed her face. She would bear her burden without others knowing. It was a better fate than having her ribs crushed in some magical fight.

"When's knowledge not important?"

The Queen smiled; "He speaks the truth," they turned into another of the streets, quickly deserted; "and not a little – a lot."

"Well, I am a genius."

"In trivial matters; Midgardian business, I'm sure. Here, on this realm, in this plain, there are other forces at work, perhaps things you will not understand."

"Give me five minutes and a manual, and I'm sure I can figure it out."

"A thousand years and intuition alone, perhaps you would be right."

They fell silent. Hel was still argumentative, Tony noted. The conversation had been mostly to figure out which sides of Hel were her own, and not a result of that 'evil conscience' that had been bubbling away in her. His atheist brain had no idea what to make of the idea of Beyond and duplicates. For the moment, he was content to find out who and what this Hel was.

When they came to the grand doors of the palace, Hel slowed. Something was wrong. The air was heavy, almost oppressive, and there was a great depression rising from that closed entrance. The courtyard itself seemed to be darker the moment someone stepped inside.

"What is it?" Loki asked, having sensed his daughter's change of mood; "Have you hurt yourself, Hel? Did you get injured in the fight?" he pulled her closer to him in the hopes she would take comfort in his presence, but there was no relief in her eyes as she huddled against her father.

"She's here."

"I thought she was dead?" Steve blurted. He hung back at the entrance with the other Avengers, out of both respect and self-preservation, for they had no idea what they were getting into and the atmosphere was crushing.

"She was. She is. I have no idea. There are forces at work here much larger than I," Hel shook her head as if to clear it; "We go inside."

"We stay outside until we know what's going on in there," Loki said. His hand gripped her shoulder to emphasise his point, perhaps even to exercise his authority over her, but no such luck. It seemed in the few weeks they had been apart, Hel had once again gained years of wisdom.

"We go inside and fight until the breath in our lungs is gone. We destroy her conduits and we rid the universe of her evil. If not for us, for the generations that follow. If not for them, for existence itself."

"Speeches aren't going to help us make this decision," Tony pointed out. He strode into the courtyard as the familiar red and gold metal glinted off the light streaming from the palace, which for Hel seemed somewhat muted, as though the vibrancy was being sucked away.

"That they are not."

"How about we flip a coin? Heads we go with Hel's plan, tails, Slim's."

"We leave it to chance?"

"I thought you'd like that – you know, letting the universe decide and everything. Fate."

"Fate hasn't exactly worked in my favour, has it, Anthony?"

"Attitude. Nice. Do you want me to flip the coin or not?"

Hel looked at her father. Their eyes bore into each other for a moment and, despite the affection within them, they knew they would never come to an agreement. Loki would always act in the favour of Hel's safety. Hel would always want to do something risky and dangerous, if it meant that a benefit could be had.

"Flip the coin," she decided, "But please – call my father Loki, not Slim."


	39. The Loyalty in War

The Avengers went in first.

Hel had won the game of chance, though Loki assumed her magic had something to do with it. Her nervous smile had given him indication enough. But he had no need to argue with her – Odin wasn't of his concern, nor were the guards that protected their useless king. It was just the need to destroy the influence Hel's evil duplicate still had over the universe, even in death, even where she was rotting in the Beyond.

Was she truly rotting there, if her power was still so strongly felt?

No sooner had they stepped inside the palace that they were attacked by nine staggering demons, their black skin burning with red fire, looking similar to the Muspelheim Fire Giants of all those years ago. Odin was higher up on the throne, surrounded by a golden field and his maids, guards and court goers, so eager was he to keep them safe in that trying time.

"Stop this!" Hel cried out as Steve was thrown to the side. It was Geneva who had struck him, and the Super soldier found her strength quite the formidable foe.

The nonsensical response raised Hel's ire; "I am your Queen – not her! You will listen to me!"

Garm, crazed by the sudden loss of his mistress's evil, charged forward at Loki, and the God was lucky to dodge the great beast's hulking form. The place descended into chaos. Hel battled against Orvar as the demon slammed a great mace on the floor. The Avengers were too busy with the others to offer her any help. Even Thor was having a hard time with Lars, who was comparatively smaller than the rest, but had a hidden strength lining his charred bones.

"You have to stop!" she cried, rolling to miss another strike; "You have to listen to me!" she wanted to mourn as her dog threw himself at her, for she knew what was going through the creature's mind. He thought she was the doppelganger. He thought she had done something to the woman he had so blindly followed, and his attacks against her were his attempt to make her give Evil Hel back.

Orvar blind-sighted her when she was distracted by Garm. She flew to the side and collided with one of the columns, which crumbled around her like a makeshift grave. A cut formed above her eye. She was bleeding heavily.

"Hel!"

Loki's scream was cut off by a punch to the side. He too flew into one of the columns, but his head was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it smashed against the stone until he was all but knocked out.

The throne-room descended into war.


	40. Cut Above the Rest

The final battle was, in all rights, a success.

The demons that had stood so tall were brought down to their knees, tied at the neck to the nearest undestroyed columns, and limping away from them was their Queen Hel – their once evil, now complete Queen, who damned them for their actions. Garm was tied too, but the confused beast was now whimpering as he realised what he had done. The high pierced cries shredded Hel's heart.

"My girl," Loki reached out to touch her shoulder, and she had to stop herself from flinching away from him, for his hand landed on a particularly sore bruise. "You fought well."

Above them stood Odin, around him, the court, maids and guards. They watched in silent awe as the girl they had once revered, then reviled, limped away from her own people, bearing the wounds of war as gracefully as she would a gown. Loki was at her side every step of the way. The King's eyes softened when he saw how his adopted son went about his daughter, his limbs reaching out whenever she stumbled, and then backing away so she could regain her footing.

He was a good father. One of the best; had it not been for those three hundred years of precarious harmony, Odin may have even said his granddaughter was one of the best Queens.

The Avengers were securing their foes. Ties and lassos were put around their limbs, and felled the great beasts that Asgardians had once feared. Whispered stories came to mind as they watched the demons being repressed. Garm's whimpers revealed to them suddenly that he was not a creature of pure destruction, but a simple, oversized dog, his one purpose in life an unwavering loyalty to his mistress.

Big canine eyes watched Hel walk away from them. The cries were only making her duty harder. She knew the end was near – soon enough, the Evil Hel's influence would be erased, and she could bury the memory of her like so many cheap seeds. Where the ashes of Muspelheim remained, flowers would grow, wildlife would take over and creatures like Garm could roam free, uninhibited by people or elves or whatever else decided they were superior. Giantland would become an idyllic haven for nature. Helheim would remain cold and icy, perhaps even when Hel went back, but the horrors that were left inside the ice would have thawed and disappeared.

"What must you do now?" Loki asked, gripping her elbow to help her stand. He did not push what they knew already, but his voice was anything from curious, and his eyes were sympathetic to the little girl he loved so much. She was still so young. Yet another horror he had failed to protect her from.

"We…" she paused. "We…have to rid the universe of her influence. All she created must die. All of it."

Big green eyes turned and locked with Garm's. He looked so unbearably sad that she felt her heart fragment.

"I…will need a knife."

"Hel, if you don't feel able-"

"It has to be me. It has always had to be me."

"But…" Loki took a breath to steel himself. His daughter's sadness was wearing off on him. "I don't want you to have to go through any more of this, Hel. I vowed to protect you. I've…" he shook his head. "Failed you. Again."

"You stand here beside me. You haven't failed me, Daddy." A small hand clutched his own, warm and firm, but no doubt shaky. "But you can't protect me forever. I have to do this. I just…don't have to do this alone."


End file.
